Pale Horse
by wentworth360
Summary: After - Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?
1. Chapter 1

**Pale Horse**

**Whatever Happen to the Man of Tomorrow?**

By Tim Crane

**Published: Special Assignment for the Daily Planet**

METROPOLIS — Ten years. It has been ten years since the world last saw Superman, the Man of Tomorrow. How does one mark such a tragic event? As many of our readers know, the Daily Planet was intimately connected with Superman. Because he touched so many lives here on paper, our owners and editors decided the proper way to commemorate the anniversary was to celebrate it. You hold in your hands that celebration. Over the following pages we will chart his rise from his first appearance to global icon. I have been assigned to cover the final weeks of his life. Many long time readers might wonder why me, Tim Crane was given this assignment and I will admit to wondering myself. I was told that because I came to the paper after his disappearance, our editors hoped I would bring a fresh set of eyes to the events. That is what I will endeavor to do.

The logical place to start this is with the only surviving eyewitness, Lois Lane. For many she is synonymous with Superman and his story. Through her reporting the world got to know the last son of Krypton and her fame grew as well. It was shortly after the events we've all come to know happened that Miss Lane resigned from the Planet and dropped from the public radar. I will admit I was just a bit intimidated at the thought of interviewing her. Her reputation is still well known around the office even after all these years. She did not suffer fools gladly.

It took quite awhile to track her down and finally with the help of our senior editor, Perry White, I was able to convince her to do an interview with me. I drove out to the quiet suburbs early one morning to hear the story once again from her. I was surprised at the modest ranch house on the quiet street she lived it. Packing up my tools of the trade I walked up to the front door and knocked. It took a moment for the door to open but then I found myself face to face with Lois Lane. She was still a very striking woman even after all these years. She invited me into her house and also corrected me, it wasn't Lois Lane, it was Lois Lane-Elliot now. What follows is her first hand eyewitness account of those last days.

It seems longer but I guess it has only been ten years. Things… things were different back then. There was a sort of peace as most of Superman's enemies had either died or vanished. A peaceful time, I know that sounds strange to say nowadays, but maybe it was just a simpler time. Superman was working with the government on a space mission and just starting with the newly formed Justice League. I guess the starting point, if there was one, was Bizarro.

Something had happened to him. What? I guess we'll never know, but in his twisted mind something had changed. His goal seemed to be to become the perfect imperfect duplicate of Superman. It made no sense back then and it still doesn't. He went on a killing spree, since Superman never kills anyone. Bizarro deliberately destroyed the Bizarro World and then came to Earth as an adult, again since Superman came as an infant. Bizarro took the opposite theme to its logical conclusion, committing suicide. Since Superman was alive in Bizarro's twisted mind the only way to be the perfect imperfect duplicate was to be dead. It was almost tragically comical if you think about it. His last words were,' Hello, Superman, hello."

That seemed to be a turning point and things got much darker after that. Toyman and Prankster kidnapped and tortured Pete Ross. They killed Pete.

It was at this point that Mrs. Lane-Elliot had to break off. She was obviously still haunted by the memories, so I didn't push her.

* * *

><p><strong>Don't miss any of the Planet's<strong>

**coverage of the Anniversary!**

Go online for more pictures

and stories! **The Daily Planet!**

**Cat Grant dishes the dirt!**

Who were the _**women**_ in

Superman's life? Was he

_more than just friends_ with

some of those famous **_female_**

**_heroes_**? Read all the _gossip_

_and rumors_ on Page 6!

**Lex Luthor: **

**Criminal Mastermind or**

**Misunderstood Genius?**

Steve Lombardi investigates!

Page 12!

** Where it all started!**

First criminal caught by Superman

**Butch Matson**'s _release_ from

prison this week!

Story by Amanda Long

Page 15!

**How the World's Changed**

Ten Years Later

An Editorial by Perry White

Page 3!

* * *

><p>Miss Lane-Elliot apologized for letting the emotions overwhelm her and then continued with her story. It was during a live TV newscast that the "Fearsome Funsters" as they were called, launched an attack that exposed Clark Kent's secret to the world.<p>

At the same time, unknown to anyone, Lex Luthor was searching for the remains of Brainiac. Whether Lex intended just to disassembled it and learn its technology or something else, he somehow managed to reactivate the head, which quickly moved to take over his body and motor functions. In full control, Brainiac sought to avenge his defeat to Superman. He allied himself with the Kryptonite Man, who also bore a grudge.

Things got bad in a hurry and an army of Metallos attacked the Daily Planet. Superman managed to defeat them but with his secret identity out, he felt compelled to relocate his closest friends to his Fortress of Solitude. Krypto, Superman's faithful dog, soon joined Lana Lang, Jimmy Olsen, Perry White and his wife Alice, along with myself.

Lois paused here as if the images of that day were still fresh in her memory. The sound of her young son caused us to pause. She carried him back and introduced me to him. He was a beautiful baby boy and it was very apparent how much she loved him. After a few minutes she continued with her story.

I must warn the readers of the Daily Planet; the story gets more fantastic from this point on. If she had not been an eyewitness, I must confess I would doubt it as well, but these are the facts as she told them to me.

While they were in the Fortress heroes from the 30th century arrived to bestow a gift on Superman. It was something called a Phantom Zone projector and it had been inscribed "HIS SUPREME HOUR." They soon vanished leaving only that cryptic message.

The battle started the next morning. Brainiac and other time travelers, this time villains named the Legion of Super-Villains laid siege to the Fortress. Brainiac erected a force field around it to prevent other heroes, including the newly formed Justice League from interfering.

Lois made a special point of noting how Jimmy Olsen and Lana Lang showed true courage during all of it. They found artifacts in the Fortress that allowed them to temporarily gain superpowers and used them to aid Superman in the battle. Lana subdued the Kryptonite Man, while Jimmy successfully shut down Brainiac's force field. During the battle, Luthor was able to wrest back enough control of his body to be Lana to kill him. Seeing now other choice, Lana complied and snapped his neck.

So that is how Lex Luthor perished.

The Legion of Super Villains were able to determine how Jimmy and Lana were able to gain their powers and the used this knowledge to kill Lana. Brainiac temporarily was able to maintain control of Luthor's corpse and he murdered Jimmy. His force field was still keeping the other heroes at bay despite the destruction of the generator. Growing more desperate by the moment, Brainiac uses a nuclear bomb to finally breach the walls of the Fortress. Kryptonite Man rushed in, insane to kill Superman with his own hands, but Krypto somehow sensed the threat to his master. He attacked and killed Kryptonite Man but succumbed to a fate dose of Kryptonite radiation.

Brainiac finally deactivated when Luthor's body went into rigor mortis.

Lois said she would never forget the rage she saw in Superman's eyes when he saw the lifeless body of Lana Lang. The Legion of Super villains fled when they saw it too. There was one foe not accounted for, Mxyzptlk. Superman realized he was behind all of this, as he was the only one that could cause such bizarre events. As he relayed this information to Lois, Mxyzptlk appeared. He wasn't the extra dimensional imp this time, but a darker and grimmer little man with a cold smile on his face.

He admitted he orchestrated all of it, saying he had grown bored with simply being mischievous and now wanted to see what it was like to truly be evil. He then changed into his true form.

"_Did you __**honestly**__ believe that a 5th Dimensional sorcerer would resemble a funny little man in a derby hat?_"

Lois was at a loss for words on how to describe him.

"I can't describe what Mxyzptlk then became,' she said. "He had height, width, depth and a couple of other things, too."

From what she was able to describe, I will leave it to the readers' imagination, but I imagine he was something beyond our understanding, yet vaguely humanoid.

As he stalked them through the Fortress, Lois and Superman realized the significance of the gift from the Legion of Superheroes, The Phantom Zone project. Superman confronted Mxyzptlk with it and upon seeing it; he panicked and said his own name backwards, which sent him back to his own dimension. At the same moment, Superman activated the projector, sending Mxyzptlk to the Phantom Zone.

Torn between two dimensions, Mxyzptlk died with a horrible scream. Lois remembered feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that the battle was over. She was just coming to grips with the idea that her friends were dead, when she noticed the look on Superman's face. She had never seen him so devastated with grief. She asked what was wrong and he slowly turned to her. The sadness was clear in his eyes.

"I broke the one rule I promised myself I would never break,' he said.

He had killed. Lois tried to argue with him, saying he had too, but he disagreed. He said no one had the right to kill, not Mxyzptlk, nor her and not him. He turned and walked away in silence. Lois remembered running after him, pleading with him, calling to him. She realized too late where he was going. As if in penance for what he'd done, he entered a chamber containing Gold Kryptonite, which strips his powers permanently. As he walked into the blinding, golden light, he turned and gave a sad smile.

I never saw Superman again.

There was a long pause in our interview. I could almost see him in my mind, the uniform, the flowing cape, disappearing to pay for what he saw as the ultimate crime.

Steeling herself, Lois continued.

With Mxyzptlk's destruction, the force field his magic had been maintaining vanished and the heroes outside were free to enter. The wreckage in and around the Fortress seemed to be strewn with bodies, those of his most bitter enemies and those of his most loyal friends. I remember Batman describing it as 'like walking amongst the fragment of a legend. Death and destruction were everywhere, well almost everywhere. Perry and his wife were still alive. They found me outside the locked Gold Kryptonite chamber weeping. When they finally managed to open the door it was empty. He was gone.

They discovered a hidden passageway leading out of the Fortress. It was finally concluded that he had walked out powerless into the subzero wastes to freeze to death. They never found the body.

It was getting late and the interview was almost finished, but I felt compelled to ask one more question.

"Tell me, Mrs. Elliot, what do you think of the rumors that Superman is still alive somewhere?'

She seemed to think about it for a moment.

"Well, I'm sure a lot of people would like to believe that, but as far as I'm concerned, Superman died in the Arctic. I was there."

I apologized if the question seemed tactless, but she just waved this off. I guess it's the same with Jim Morrison or Tupac, people will believe what they want to believe.

As I was leaving, I stop to thank Lois again just as her husband came home. He was a tall, good-looking man, with a little gray in his hair and a mustache. We shook hands and I was on my way. I glanced back as I was climbing into my car and couldn't help feeling glad that Lois Lane had found some happiness after all she'd been through. She stood in the doorway with her husband and son and waved as I drove away.

So that is the story, from an eyewitness. I can't help wondering if perhaps given the state the world is in today, we couldn't use that Man of Tomorrow now.

* * *

><p>(<em>Tim Crane is a senior writer for the Daily Planet and a contributory to numerous online magazines and websites. He has been working for the Planet for 5 years and before that the Toledo Blade. He is also the author of 2 books<em>)

* * *

><p>Gotham – Two weeks later<p>

Bruce Wayne sat in the Batcave looking at the multiple screens. He was exhausted; the wear and tear of being Batman was starting to catch up to him. He knew he should have been in bed, but the two articles on his screen held his attention. A name from the past figured prominently in both, Lois Lane. It had been ten years, but it almost seemed like another lifetime.

The first article was from the Daily Planet's special Sunday magazine, "Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow?" The entire issue was devoted to the anniversary of Superman's disappearance. A young reporter, Tim Crane, had interviewed former Planet reporter Lois Lane-Elliot, hoping that she, as the last person to have seen Superman alive, can shed some light on the mystery of the Man of Steel's vanishing ten years previous.

As Bruce read the story for the tenth time, the memories came flooding back again. He knew the story by heart as he read Lois' description of that last day.

Bruce remembered that day so well, as the world seemed a little darker after that. Lois had grieved for both Superman and Clark Kent, but finally moved on. Bruce had been there for her at first, but time and life slowly caused them to drift apart. It was months later he read she was engaged. She married Jordan Elliot and quit the paper. They lived in a nice quiet suburb far from the limelight. From what Bruce had heard they were happy.

It was the second article that tore at his heart. The bold headlines splashed it all over the front page.

LOIS LANE MURDERED!


	2. Chapter 2

In Cold Blood

State Penitentiary

The power lines bowed between the telephone poles and ran perpendicular with the black asphalt road as far as the eye could see. The hum of the tires on the surface added a constant background walla to the soft rock playing on the radio. Long stretches of untended grass line both sides of the highway. Bluebells appear here and there, but were only brief splashes of color on the gray landscape.

The cab slowed down as it approached a wide driveway. From the road, nothing could be seen. Rolling slowly forward, the driver noticed the change of the surroundings. Everything was neat and trim, orderly. As the drive curved, a sign came into view and then the first metal fence appeared.

The cab stopped as guards moved towards it. Licenses and papers were checked. Calls were made and after several minutes the gate opened silently and the cab was waved through. A massive complex of steel and stone rose into view. The outer wall of the State Penitentiary loomed over everything. Guard towers and searchlights were sprinkled around its summit. One massive gate, like the road that lead to it, immediately conveys the message there is one way in and one way out.

The cab pulled up to the designated visitors area and waited. There was an eerie silence that slowly became unnerving. The driver turned up the radio as he checked the time once again. He picked up the clipboard sitting on the passenger seat and scanned the fair sheet once again. His eyes went back to the clock, but the time seemed to stand still.

A horn sounded and then a loud buzz accompanied the rumble of the main gate opening. Lights flashed as a series of locks were electronically opened. A moment passed. Stepping out of the darkness and into the light was the fare. The man winced, and then shielded his eyes against the sunlight. He stood for a moment, his cheap, dated suit hanging loose on his bony frame. He saw the cab, but couldn't help looking back at the gate. No one was going to stop him he seemed to realize. Slowly, he walked to the cab and climbed in the back.

"Where to, bud?" The bored taxi driver asked.

"Metropolis."

The driver nodded and pulled away. They passed through the outer gate and only when they reach the highway did the fare finally breath a sigh of relief. Butch Matson took one long last look at the Penitentiary and then never looked back again.

If he understood what irony was, Butch probably would have laughed at his situation. It's a cab that was taking him away from the Penitentiary and it was a cab that put him there. Butch didn't understand irony, but he did have a long memory. As they make their way towards Metropolis, he couldn't help thinking of why he was locked away in the first place.

It was just another night, like countless others. One drink led to another and another. He spotted the pretty young thing across the bar and knew he had to have her. Sliding off his stool he managed to make his way over to her table. She looked so young, so fresh and so beautiful. He tried chatting her up, but no dice. He could still remember the look of complete distain on her face as she turned him down flat. Her sharp tongue had made him feel like a complete idiot.

He slunk back to his seat at the bar, humiliated and angry. He was just a mug and knew it, but she didn't have to be so brash and rude. Someone needed to teach the young bitch a lesson in manners. As he down several more drinks the idea seemed to capture his imagination.

She finally got up and left the roadhouse. Butch followed. They struggled. She fought and clawed like a wildcat until he pulled out the gun. It was really just a cheap Saturday night special, but at that range it would do the job. He smiled as he watched her beg him not to do anything stupid. She wasn't so stuck up now.

As he rode away from the Penitentiary, Butch still wasn't sure what he would have done to her that night. He was drunk and angry and wiping that condescending look off her beautiful face was as far as he was thinking. He didn't know it at the time, but the whole world was about to change that night. Butch Matson had the dubious honor of being the first criminal stopped by Superman. He could still remember the shock and awe he felt as he saw him for the first time. It was like some young, avenging God had come down to Earth. In a panic Butch had fired his gun, but the bullets just harmlessly bounced off. Superman had lifted the taxi with ease and tossed it aside.

It wasn't even until his trial that Butch learned the young woman's name, Lois Lane. Over the years in prison he like everyone else got to know that name very well. It seemed their lives were linked by that night. Her life was a continuous upward climb, while his was a downward spiral into Hell. Both were the result of their encounter with Superman.

When the news came that Superman was no more, Butch had cheered along with everyone else in the Pen. Some of the nastier metas were already boasting about what they would do once they got out with Superman no longer around. For a guy like Butch, as satisfying as it was to hear the hero that put him away was no more, it really didn't change that much. Prison had been a constant struggle just to survive and it tended to break men like Butch. He wasn't worried about superheroes, just making it through the day. Fifteen years he'd spent in that hellhole. It was fifteen years he would never get back.

The cab ride back to the city took longer than Butch remembered. As they headed toward the halfway house in the Suicide Slums, Butch stared out the window at all the changes that had happened since he'd been away. Metropolis wasn't exactly Gotham, but from what he'd read in prison, it was having it's own crime and violence problems. The city had a dark foreboding feel about it that had never been there before. It seemed everything had changed since Butch went away and Superman disappeared.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AP News<em>**

**_Metropolis — Police say a 37-year-old woman and her infant son have died and her husband is badly injured in a vicious assault in a quiet suburb. The assailant is dead, as well._**

**_Witnesses report the attack was unprovoked and they had never seen the man before. He apparently exited a cab several houses away from the victims and then walked from there. The attack took place in the victim's front yard in plain view of the entire neighborhood._**

**_No arrests have been made, and police have not determined a motive. The investigation is continuing._**

* * *

><p>Metropolis – the Suicide Slums<p>

Butch stepped out onto the curb in front of the halfway house. He pulled a cigarette and match from his pocket and lit up. No smoking inside the halfway house. Another change since he'd been away. He took a drag and coughed, but then took another one.

He'd been out a week. Everything he'd known was gone. Old friends were either dead, locked up or had moved away. Life had moved on without him. As he started walking down the street he could feel the eyes on him. It was different from the old days. Back then it was fear, now it was pity. Anger flashed through him. He was just an old man in a shitty suit to these people. He was nothing but a potential victim, just like he'd been inside.

He was out of the Pen, but there was nothing for him anymore. He had been a low level enforcer at best, but even the criminals were different now. His parole officer suggested getting a job. The options he was presented with, busboy, dishwasher, fast food clerk, just added to his fury. Being an ex-con it wasn't even a sure thing he would get the job. He would have to beg to be treated like dirt.

So he fell back on what he knew, crime. He wasn't having much luck with that either. A simple snatch and run earned him a face full of mace and a kick to the groin. Through burning tears soaked eyes he watched the young woman storm off hollering for police. In his mind another young woman came back to him. The fury began to burn in his gut.

He continued walking, rolling over and over in his mind what he was going to do. The thought of going back to the Pen sent a cold chill down his back. Fear, that's what he'd learned inside, a helpless naked fear. He hated that feeling, but it was always there.

He stopped at the small bodega and fished out some change for the paper. The old man running the place gave him a sour look as he glanced at Butch's cigarette. He snatched the paper from the old man and blew another stream of smoke in his face before walking off.

"Asshole."

The word was as clear as a bell and Butch knew it was directed at him. He stopped and slowly turned. He stared at the bodega owner with a cold dead look. The man seemed to flinch for a second and then got very nervous as Butch started walking back.

"What did you say?"

Butch was standing right in front of him now.

"Nothing."

"I heard you say something."

"I didn't say anything."

Butch was just about to hit the man when he saw the cop turn the corner. The officer must have caught something in both their eyes, cause he made a beeline straight for them.

"Is there a problem here?"

Butch stepped back and sized the cop up. He was young and already had his nightstick out.

"No problem officer,' Butch said.

"Bullshit, this guy is hassling me,' the bodega owner shouted. Butch felt first tremor of fear as the cop turned all his attention towards him.

"Why don't you move along, old-timer,' the policeman suggested. Butch just nodded and started moving. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the beads of perspiration between his shoulder blades. He made it to the corner as fast as he could and then collapsed against the brick wall. He was breathing hard, drenched in a cold sweat. He was sick to his stomach with the fear.

It took several moments to calm down. He finally managed to stand on his own two feet and continued walking. The incident kept repeating in his mind. Old-timer, the cop had called him, like he was just some harmless old fool he didn't have to worry about. That's what he was now, a harmless old fool that didn't frighten anyone. The bile began to churn in Butch's stomach at the very thought.

Suddenly he stopped and a small smile came to his face. The bodega owner had been afraid, afraid of him. It was only a brief moment, but Butch could picture it clear as a bell. It reminded him of the old days.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AP News<em>**

**_Metropolis. — Police have identified the victims of the vicious assault that rocked this peaceful suburb as Lois Lane-Elliot, former star reporter for the Daily Planet and her two-year-old son. Both died immediately from injuries sustained in the attack. Mrs. Lane-Elliot's husband, Jordan Elliot, a local mechanic sustained a concussion, three broken ribs and numerous lacerations. He is currently in police custody at the local hospital._**

**_Police have been able to identify the assailant as one, Butch Matson. Mr. Matson was recently released from the State Penitentiary after serving fifteen years for assault and kidnapping. Mr. Matson died on the scene._**

**_There is speculation of a past history between Mrs. Elliot and Mr. Matson but the police have not determined a motive._**

* * *

><p>Metropolis – Suicide Slums<p>

Butch sat in his dingy room at the halfway house, the Sunday paper spread out in front of him. The special magazine insert celebrating the 10th anniversary of Superman's disappearance had his full attention. There was even a small item about him, but no picture. He was just the first poor sap that Superman caught. He was a piece of trivia for guys down at the bar to win bets over.

In the center of the table was the story about Superman's last days. The interview with Lois Lane was apparently the centerpiece of all the coverage. There was a picture of her smiling for the camera. She looked happy. Life had been very good to her. Butch felt his fingers rip through the newspaper, tearing it to shred and then flinging it against the wall.

She had everything and he had nothing. He was just barely a footnote and she was a star.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Action News 10 - Live<em>**

**_"We interrupt our regularly schedule program to bring you the last details of the still unfolding scene from today's shocking news of Lois Lane's murder. We go to our correspondent on the scene, Lyle Tate."_**

**_"Thanks Jim, the scene here is a madhouse. This quiet sleepy little suburb is in a state of shock and reeling from what happened. It has been confirmed that Lois Lane, former star reporter for the Daily Planet and well-known celebrity along with her young son have been brutally murdered. Since the news got out, reporters from all over have descended. It has been confirmed the killer is one Butch Matson, recently released from jail. As you may have read Mr. Matson was the first person arrested by Superman and it did involve assault and attempted kidnapping of Lois Lane. Police are not saying this was the motive, but it seems like a strong possibility."_**

**_"What about Matson, Lyle?"_**

**_"Dead, Jim. From all the reports were getting Jordan Elliot killed him, but the police haven't confirmed that. Elliot isn't speaking to anyone and is in the hospital. We do have an interview, though, with a neighbor and witness to the tragedy, if you want to roll that footage."_**

The screen shifts and an older man is standing in the middle of a sea of reporters. He looks shaken as he relates what he saw.

**_"It was just another Sunday, you know? This is a nice neighborhood, quiet and friendly. I was just working out in the yard like most people around here. I saw Lois and Jordan doing the same and waved. They were putting in a flowerbed, while trying to keep an eye on that young one of theirs. He's a cute little guy, but a handful…. Or was. Oh, God, I still can't believe any of this is happening."_**

The man is visibly shaken as he wipes tears from his eyes, but the reporters prompt him to go on.

**_"Yeah, okay, I know, you want to here about it. So I was doing the hedges when I noticed a cab pull up just down the block there. I didn't think much of it, just figured it was someone from the city. I turned back to the hedges but something made me look again. I saw the guy, you know, but I didn't know what he was going to do. I did have a bad feeling about him, just something in his eyes. He was dressed in old suit, like from the seventies or something. It just seemed odd to me._**

**_He didn't look around, just walked straight for the Elliots over there. They weren't really looking, as their attention was on their son. A shovel was lying on the ground by the new flower garden and the man picked it up. He swung it at Jordan, just like that."_**

The man seemed to tremble as he remembered it. Fresh tears came to his eyes,

**_"There was blood everywhere. It didn't seem real, like it was a movie or something. Then Lois screamed and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Others came out to see what was going on, but I couldn't move, I was just frozen there, in horror. The man started screaming at Lois, but it didn't make any sense. She fought him like a wildcat, but then he hit her with the shovel. It was such a sickening sound. Jordan was on his knees and tried to get to his wife, but the man hit him again. He just kept hitting them over and over. The he turned to the baby..._**

The man threatens to break down as the nightmare starts to overwhelm him.**_  
><em>**

**_"God, I should have done something, anything, but I was terrified. I just stood here in shock watching it all happen.'_**

**_"How did Matson die?"_** One of the reporters asked.

**_"Jordan. I don't know how he did it, but somehow he lunged at the man and wrestled him to the ground. Blood was just pouring from him, yet he got his hands around that man's neck and didn't let go. Then the man stopped moving. Jordan crawled towards his wife and son, but just collapsed."_**

* * *

><p>Metropolis<p>

Bruce Wayne walked down the corridor towards the security wing of the hospital. He could see the two guards stationed outside the room, but he wasn't concerned. On his lapel, he had a badge authorizing him to see the prisoner/patient. The police were still sorting everything out and until they did, Jordan Elliot was in protective custody. It was probably for the best, if the swarm of reporters outside the hospital was any indication.

Bruce could feel every eye on him as he walked to the room. The two guards stood at attention. They examined his badge, making sure it was legit.

"Are you sure you want to go in there, Mr. Wayne?" The one Guard asked.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, if you insist, though, I got to tell you, he hasn't said a word since he arrived."

As the second guard fumbled with the key, Bruce glanced through the window a the patient inside.

"How is he?'

"Not good,' the guard replied. "He's on suicide watch. The restrains are really for his protection."

"He hasn't said anything?' Bruce asked.

"No, he just lays there staring out the window."

"Okay, you can open it up,' Bruce informed the guard.

"Are you sure Mr. Wayne?' The man replied. "An important guy like you in there alone with him, there's no telling what he might do."

"I'll be fine, just open it."

"Do you want me to go in with you, for protection?'

"No, I think I can handle it."

The guard inserted the key and turned it. He gave the door a hard tug and pulled it open. Bruce stepped through and then turned back to the guard.

"Could you give us some privacy?"

The guard gave him one more look and then shut the door behind him. Bruce stood there for over a minute just looking at the man on the hospital bed. Bandages covered most of his upper torso, yet he hadn't even looked over when the door opened. Bruce stepped to the foot of the bed.

"Hello Clark."

* * *

><p>AN: to anonymous reviewer - "then don't read it." ; )


	3. Chapter 3

Let It Burn

Metropolis

Bruce wasn't sure what reaction he expected. Given the circumstances, it probably shouldn't have surprised him that there was none. The bruised and battered body of his friend had been through hell in the last two days. His world had been utterly destroyed before his eyes. Bruce tried to reach him.

"It's been a long time. I wish it were under different circumstances. I don't have any words of comfort, but I hope you know you have my deepest condolences, Clark."

Nothing, not even a blink of recognition came back. He must still be in shock, Bruce thought. As he looked at his friend from long ago, he followed his eyes. They weren't looking out the window as the guard said, but at his bandaged hands. As difficult as it was, there were practical matters that couldn't wait. Clark was in no condition to deal with them or anything right now, so Bruce was here to help.

"My lawyers are on the way as we speak, Clark. They assure me they'll have you out of here in no time at all. There won't be any charges against you. My doctors are also taking control of your case. You may have given up your powers, but you physiology is still Kryptonian. The world doesn't need to know that. All your records will be secured."

Still there was no response. Bruce pressed ahead with the most delicate matter.

"Arrangements will have to be made for Lois and your boy."

His voice was as soft and filled with compassion as it had ever been.

"I don't know if you had any preference in those things, but I'll try and make it as simple and private as I can."

Bruce found himself reaching towards Clark. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, to offer comfort or just get some reaction. His hand stopped short and he slowly pulled it back.

"I'll let you rest,' Bruce said. "I cared for her too."

He looked at Clark and then started to turn towards the door.

"Bruce?'

He turned back immediately. Those blue eyes were looking at him. In all his life Bruce didn't think he'd ever seen such overwhelming sadness as he saw in those eyes.

"Yes?"

"I thought they were my reward, you know, for trying to live a good life? Uh uh. There is no payoff, no reward. There's no happy ending. No one gets out alive."

They held each other's eyes for a moment and then Clark finally lowered his again.

"Get some rest, Clark."

* * *

><p>The Watchtower<p>

There was a somber mood on the Watchtower as five heroes stepped off the transporter platform. They had been victorious, but it had been a hard fought battle. It seemed they were all hard fought battles these days. Their leader was Wonder Woman.

"Good work, everyone,' she said.

"You too, Diana."

"Thanks"

She flashed them a rare smile and then headed out the door. As she made her way to her quarters, her mind returned to the news that had shocked them all, Lois Lane's death. It was a name out of the past that Diana hadn't thought of in a long time. Then twice in a week it was front and center in everyone's mind.

As she turned the corner and opened her door, Diana thought back to just a week ago. The Sunday edition of the Daily Planet had full coverage of the anniversary of Superman's disappearance. She had sat in the Embassy and read every word. They brought back so many memories. It was hard to believe it had already been ten years. Diana had to chuckle as she read how she had been linked to Superman back then. Oh, how that had annoyed Lois. The last few years the media had been linking Wonder Woman with Batman, much to Diana's current boyfriend, Tom's chagrin.

Now Lois was dead.

As she slipped off her uniform and turned on the shower, Diana felt sadness threatening to overwhelm her. Standing under the water, she couldn't hold back the tears and didn't even try. She mourned Lois and her heart went out to her family. They had not always been on the best of terms, but Diana had admired Lois in many ways.

It wasn't just Lois she mourned, though, but a perhaps just a bit for herself as well. Ten years, it seemed only like yesterday yet another lifetime. The memories came flooding back. She had just emerged from Themyscira back then and the world appeared new. Limitless possibilities seemed in front of her. It had been a struggle to adjust to the Man's world, but she had embraced it all. She was a messenger of hope and took pride in that role.

The Justice League was just forming to meet the common threat of the Martians and she had been one of the founders. They were so young and perhaps a bit naïve, but they believed they could change the world. Diana had believed they could change the world with all her heart. Even Bruce, although Diana doubted he would ever admit it, believed they were making a difference.

Then Kal died.

Perhaps it was their youth, but his death had hit them all hard. He was the first hero. The standard by which all were measured and then he was gone. The world grieved and they did too. For many of them it was their first taste of death in this life they chose. Diana remembered how awful that day had been.

Everything seemed to change after that. Perhaps it was a loss of innocence for all of them. New members joined and the League carried on but that sense of idealism and hope was never recaptured. Perhaps that was what she mourned now, along with Lois, how everything had changed. How she had changed. Certainly she was much more world weary and perhaps just a little more jaded now, but hard lessons had taught her well.

Looking back on it, she still didn't agree with Kal's choice. Instinctively she knew it and the years had only reinforced it, there were no absolutes. It was where she differed from Kal back then and Bruce even now. To say you would never kill, no matter what the circumstance, seemed naïve to her. Events and situations existed that gave you no alternative. Yet even this thought added to her melancholy.

Lost innocence, that was the cost so many when Kal died. Diana mourned for Lois, but also the woman Diana used to be.

* * *

><p>Metropolis Hospital<p>

**_"This is Action 10 News' Lyle Tate live on the scene at Metropolis Memorial Hospital. It's a media feeding frenzy here as news has just leaked that Jordan Elliot has been released from police custody and all charges have been dropped. As many of our viewers know, Mr. Elliot is the husband Lois Lane, the famous former reporter for the Daily Planet. She along with her son, Jonathan were the victims in the brutal slaying that rocked the city and the nation over the weekend. It has just been confirmed that Mr. Elliot will be moved in just a matter of moments to an as yet undisclosed location. He has given no interviews or public statements since the tragedy. Wait! Something's happening, this could be it!"_**

The camera starts to shake as the news crew rushes along with a swarm of other media towards the rear doors of the hospital. An ambulance is there and the back doors are open. Police and private security ring the ambulance, as the reporters and TV people push forward, trying to get a shot or comment from Jonathan Elliot. There is movement from inside the hospital and then paramedics come rushing out wheeling a gurney. On the gurney is a man in bandages but the security and police obscure the view. The man is whisked into the ambulance and the doors are slammed shut. Lights and sirens start even as the assembled media press against the ambulance trying to get a shot of Jordan Elliot. With a few fits and stops, the ambulance pulls away from the hospital and heads out of frame.

_**"You've just seen the release of Jordan Elliot, live right here on Action 10 News! Our sky copter will be following the ambulance from here, so stay tuned for full coverage of this still unfolding story! This is Lyle Tate for Action 10 News reporting!"**_

* * *

><p>The Watchtower<p>

A monitor shows the scene from the hospital and then suddenly is turned off.

"Vultures!"

It was Diana that turned it off and uttered the curse.

"That poor guy, this must all be a nightmare for him,' Wally West observed.

"You're helping him, aren't you, Bruce,' Zatanna asked.

"Yes, Lois was a friend,' he replied.

The others around the table nod in agreement. A silence comes over the conference room. As acting chairwoman Dinah felt she needed to bring up anther issue.

"I know it's probably not the best time, but the funeral,' she said. "The League should send a representative."

"We should all go,' Ollie replied. "Lois was a special friend to many of us. I know I'm going, I owe it to her."

"I'll go with you,' Diana offered. Hal nodded in agreement.

"When is the funeral?' Wally asked.

"Tomorrow."

"I'll go too."

It was Bruce's turn to speak.

"I won't tell any of you what to do, but if you decide to go to the funeral there is something you should know before hand."

He had everyone's attention. He looked at each of them for a moment and then leaned forward. He was unsure how to tell them, so he just came straight out with it.

"Jordan Elliot is Clark Kent."

"What?"

Several members gasped and the whole room was in a state of shock. Questions and comments of disbelief seemed to fly from everyone. It was Diana's voice that finally cut through the others.

"How long have you known this, Bruce?"

He turned and looked her in the eye.

"Nine years."

"Nine years?" It was Ollie's turn to be speak up. "You knew about this for nine years?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell any of us,' Diana added.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Lois asked me not to,' Bruce replied.

"Lois?" It was Ollie that asked, but Diana was still looking at Bruce.

"As you all remember, Clark disappeared ten years ago from the Fortress out into the Arctic. We all searched but never found him,' Bruce began. "I stayed in touch with Lois, trying to help in any way I could for that first year. Eventually, she tried to move on and we drifted apart. I still kept tabs on her; just to make sure she was okay. It was when I heard she'd quit the paper and had gotten engaged I felt the need to check things out."

He paused and looked down at the table for a moment.

"Go on,' Diana said.

"I was in Metropolis on business and I went over to see Lois. She was having dinner with her fiancée. I'd heard his name was Jordan Elliot so I thought I'd see what sort of man he was." Bruce said, continuing his explanation. "I recognized him immediately, even with the mustache and long hair."

"His eyes,' Diana offered.

"Yes." Bruce replied with a nod. "I was as shocked at all of you are. I didn't know what to think. Was he a clone, an evil duplicate, what, I wondered? So I waited and went to see Lois alone and confronted her. She told me yes, it was Clark the real one and that he had returned. I asked how, why and she told me what he'd told her. He'd left the  
>Fortress that day to die. He wandered out into the icy wasteland with no direction other than away. How long he was out there she said he didn't know. It turned out that even without his powers, his Kryptonian body is a lot more durable than the average human. He walked and walked until he couldn't walk any more, she said. He collapsed into the snow and slipped into unconsciousness."<p>

Bruce paused here, letting it sink in.

"He hadn't known it, but he'd walked within ten miles of a small town up there. It was a trucker that found him along the side of the highway. He took him back to town and he slowly recovered. He'd been prepared to die; yet here he was alive. It took him a long time to get his health back, but eventually he did. I guess he wandered around for some time, but eventually he came back to Metropolis and that's when Lois saw him again."

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't tell us,' Ollie pointed out.

"Lois,' Bruce replied. "When I spoke to her, she said he'd changed; he wasn't the same man anymore. He wasn't Superman or even Clark Kent now, as if those lives really did end out there in the wilderness. He seemed to only want a normal life. Lois said he'd done enough. She asked that he be left alone, that they be left alone. I agreed."

Silence filled the conference room, as they all were lost in their own private thoughts.

* * *

><p>Metropolis<p>

It had rained all day. The gray skies seemed to reflect the somber mood. A small group of mourners sat under a tent at the grave site. Perry White and his wife, Alice were the only people from the Planet and the old days. They were here as private citizens and friends. Lois' sister, Lucy was there, as most of Lane family had already passed away. A few neighbors and a small select group of friends gathered and listened as the preacher offered words of compassion and condolences. He tried to be comforting and reassuring but his words were lost on Clark. He sat motionless in the front row, just staring at the two coffins and graves. His arm was draped around Lois' sister as she broke down and cried on his shoulder.

Bruce sat in the back row, along side Diana, Ollie, Hal, Dinah and Wally. They were all in civilian clothes, as not to draw more attention to the ceremony. Bruce's security kept the press and public at bay. He wanted this to be private, thinking Lois deserved that and so did Clark.

Each of them found their gaze returning to Clark as the ceremony went on. It was like seeing a ghost from the past, a shadow of someone they used to know. Memories and questions filled all of their minds, but they knew this wasn't the place or the time. They were here to pay their last respects to Lois Lane.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

The preacher announced that Lucy wanted everyone to know that they could come to her house in Metropolis after the service. There would be food and beverages, plenty of food had been delivered. The service ended. The preacher approached Clark and offered some words of comfort. There was no response, except Clark shaking his hand. The mourners slowly began to file out heading back to their cars. Clark didn't leave, but remained by the coffins as the workers slowly lowered them into the ground.

From the window of the black limousines, the members of the Justice League watched him as the car pulled away.

* * *

><p>The Elliot House<p>

The lights were off and there wasn't a sound except the rain that had continued to pour. Clark sat motionless in the living room. His face was damp with tears. Echoes of voices seemed to fill his head. Every part of the house reminded him of Lois and Jonathan. It all got just too much for him.

It started with his glasses hitting the wall. Next the table and lamp were overturned. Once he'd let some of his anger and sorrow out, he couldn't stop it. With a primal scream from deep in his soul he began to smash everything in sight, trying to obliterate everything that brought back the agonizing memories that wouldn't stop. He smashed his bandaged hands bloody against the walls, tears pouring from his eyes.

He couldn't stay here, couldn't be in this place, the pain was too raw and deep. Better to wipe it off the face of the Earth than let it be a reminder of the evil that had occurred. Stumbling out to the garage he opened the door and grabbed a gas can. He began splashing gas over the car, the house, everything. He finally tossed the empty can through the front window and just stood there. The front yard was the scene of the crime.

Clark lit a match and tossed it.

Let it burn.


	4. Chapter 4

Blood Money

Metropolis – 28 days later

Time becomes condensed with each passing hour. The world races ahead always searching for the next new thing. Images, videos play an ever increasing role. If there are no pictures, it's as if it doesn't exist. Differentiation between the important and the trivial stops and it all becomes just white noise spewed out for an increasingly ADHA world.

* * *

><p><em>Tornado destroys Midwest town!<em>

_American Idol Winner engaged!_

_Famous reporter and child brutally murdered!_

_Joe Jonas spotted kissing costar on Video Set!_

_Violence flares on Kosovo border!_

_Grieving husband of famous reporter burns down house!_

_Full effects of Fukushima nuclear plant meltdown still unknown!_

_Gunman kills 68, says it was necessary!_

_Jersey Shore's Snooki: "Brakes didn't work!" in Italian Car crash!_

* * *

><p>Lost amongst all the noise is the aftermath. If it happened more than a week ago it might as well be ancient history. The media culture is like the circus, it stops briefly and focusing all the spotlights and attention and then it moves on. There's no memory, just fleeting images disappearing in the rearview mirror.<p>

The Hudson Hotel in the Suicide Slums of Metropolis rents rooms by the week, day or hour. It's very nature is transitory, as our its guests. The man in room 43 goes unnoticed by most. He talks to no one, just exits his room sometime in the evening and then staggers back sometime in the morning. The desk clerk knows only two things about him, he pays on time and he signed in as Kal Lane. A few have tried to strike up a conversation with him, but quickly realize this is futile. He never speaks, never even acknowledges them. They move on to the next thing that catches their interest.

Room 43 is ten by eight, with a metal frame bed, a worn out mattress, desk, chair and light bulb hanging from the ceiling without a shade. The desktop was littered with take out food containers. An empty bottle of liquor rests on its side in the waste can. The sole occupant of the room thrashed on the bed as the nightmares returned. He sat up with a gasp; his eyes roam over his immediate surrounds until recognition sank in.

The real nightmares have begun.

28 days have passed and the world was still shattered. Waking each day signaled the return of memories, still too raw and heart wrenching. Clark would have gladly given his life for his wife and child, but life didn't allow that. He wanted to join them, even bought a gun, yet something seemed to stop him. He couldn't pull the trigger, even though every part of him wanted the pain to end.

So he drank instead. One of the off shoots of his giving up his powers was that alcohol affected him. He took full advantage of this, each night drinking himself into a stupor before passing out on the bed in room 43. He drank to forget, to anesthetize the pain and blot out the world. He wanted no tomorrow and no yesterday. He just wanted to be numb.

He sat up on the side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. The gray that was added to the sides that was so identifiable to Jordan Elliot was gone. His hair was dark and long, while a beard and mustache adorned his face. His head and body hurt as he pulled himself up and grabbed a towel. He unlocked the door and headed down to the communal bath that was at the end of the hall. He spoke to no one and no one spoke to him.

Twenty minutes later he walked through the lobby, paying no attention the desk clerk's greeting and was out on the street. It was dusk. Happy hour was underway.

* * *

><p>PRIVATE CONTRACTORS NEEDED!<p>

MAKE **75** TO **125 THOUSAND** A YEAR!

_**Right Now**, people just like **YOU** are getting jobs that pay these remarkable salaries! Are you a truck driver? Mechanic? Former military man? Out of work? Behind on your bills? Like to travel? Want to see the world? Well this is the opportunity you've been looking for! Call today and get started on the **road to success**! Private firms all over the globe are waiting to hire **YOU**!_

Ads like these pop up every now and then in local newspapers and on web job sites. If you haven't seen them where you live, that probably is a good thing for you. The ads are targeted to the poorer areas of the country, the parts that are really struggling. The jobs are for private defense and military contractors. The jobs are in Iraq and Afghanistan. The jobs are working in the middle of a war zone.

KBR, which has won the largest number of government contracts by far, is a former unit of Halliburton Co.

The top 15 and the amount of money they've been paid by the US government so far are as follows:

1. KBR Inc - $16,059,282,020

2. DynCorp International - $ 1,838,156,100

3. Washington Group Int'l Inc - $1,044,686,850

4. IAP Worldwide Services Inc - $901,973,910

5. Environmental Chemical Corp - $899,701,070

6. L-3 Communications Holdings Inc - $853,535,680

7. Fluor Corp - $736,853,200

8. Perini Corp PCR.N - $720,859,110

9. Orascom Construction Industries - $617,089,510

10. Parsons Corp - $579,265,450

11. First Kuwaiti G.T. And C. Co. - $495,404,500

12. Blackwater USA - $485,149,590

13. Tetra Tech Inc - $362,107,010

14. AMEC PLC - $317,171,280

15. Laguna Pueblo - $312,677,530

For the past few years, private military contractors have out numbered US troops in Afghanistan. There were more contractors than US troops in Iraq a year ago, but the number of contractors dropped slightly this year to 120,000 — equal to the number of US troops. These contractors often provide "logistical" support as cooks, truck drivers, in warehouse workers, etc. The actual "guns for hire" provide bodyguards, security for embassies and private businesses and even guards for military bases.

Along with advertising, these companies also do direct recruiting, again mostly in poor and depressed areas of the country. They tend to emphasize the opportunity and money and downplay the fact that the job is in the middle of a warzone.

Taking this with who is actually in the military these days, the old saying has never been truer, the poor and the desperate fight the war, and the rich get richer off it.

* * *

><p>Metropolis - Suicide Slums<p>

Sully's is a hole in the wall bar in the worst part of town, but the drinks are cheap. Sitting alone at one of the back booths, Clark finished his drink and signaled for another. It was almost closing time and he'd been here for hours. Tonight, all the drinks couldn't stop the pain. As the waitress set his drink down and scooped up his money, Clark turned away. Tears filled his bloodshot eyes and he couldn't stop them. An overwhelming melancholy had gripped him.

He tried wiping them away, but it was no use. He found himself praying, asking for an answer. He just wanted to know why? Why them and not him? Why did it all have to happen like it had? Why?

As fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, the waitress had been watching and murmured to the bartender and then pointed. The big man behind the bar sighed and then came around the side and approached Clark's table.

"Okay, buddy, I think you've had enough, time to go."

"I paid for my drink." Clark replied, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"Then drinking it fast and leave,' the bartender replied. "Or do I have to throw you out?"

The man leaned in and there was no doubt he meant what he said. Clark nodded and then tossed back the drink. He tried to stand, but nearly fell. The bartender grabbed him by his coat and started ushering him towards the door. In the next moment, Clark found himself tossed out and face down on the sidewalk.

Slowly he picked himself up and dusted himself off. He wiped his eyes again and started back towards the hotel. He didn't notice the two young men following him until they grabbed him and pulled him into an alley. They threw him hard to the trashcans that lined he alley. When he turned he found a gun pointed at his face.

"Let's have your money."

Clark raised his hand in surrender and pushed himself up by using the wall.

"I don't want any trouble,' he said, keeping his hands where they could see that.

"We don't give a shit what you want, man, you got trouble! Now give us the money!"

Slowly Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. He held them out in front of him.

"It's only about twenty, but take it."

The muggers were obviously disappointed.

"He's lying, he's got more money,' the second mugger said. "Let's just shoot him and take everything!"

Clark straightened just a bit and his eyes got a hard look in them.

"You'd shoot me for twenty bucks. I guess I got my answer."

He tossed the bills in the air, drawing the muggers' eyes away form him. In the next moment he grabbed the gun and knocked it from the younger man's hand. He followed this with a right cross, hammering his fist into the his jaw. The young man fell. Unfortunately the liquor had slowed Clark's reaction time and reflexes. He wasn't able to block the punch to the gut from the other mugger. A knee followed this to his face and he went sprawling into the trashcans again. By the time he turned over the first mugger was back on his feet and had his gun pointed at Clark's head.

"You're dead!"

Clark didn't move; just lay there waiting for the inevitable. It never came. Suddenly both muggers were lifted off their feet and slammed against the brick wall. They collapsed unconscious to the ground.

She was standing there.

At one time he could hear her heartbeat from a thousand miles away, but now she appeared as if out of thin air. She probably floated down like an angel, Clark thought. She was dressed in civilian clothes, but she would never be mistaken for ordinary.

"Diana."

"Kal, let me help you,' she said, moving towards him.

"No. I got it,' he replied, waving her off. He didn't want her help. It took a moment, but he managed to get to his feet. He leaned against the wall for support. He could probably guess why she was here, but he didn't want to see her, not now.

"Thanks," he said and then pushed off from the wall, hoping to walk passed her. She stepped in front of him, as he knew she would.

"We need to talk, Kal,' she said. Since hearing the news that he was alive, Diana had been thinking a lot about him. Perhaps it was the sense of hope she felt like she'd lost, but she wanted to help him. Seeing him like this, an unkempt drunk stumbling around the street, tore at her heart. It brought back memories of what he used to be and seemed to fuel her desire to help him.

"Why don't we have some coffee,' she suggested. "There's a diner just down the street, we could talk there?"

"Some other time, Princess,' he replied and tried to step around her. He stumbled again and she instinctively reached to help, but he brushed her hands away. "Don't."

He didn't want to do this, not now, not with her. She would want him to talk about it, all of it, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Just the sight of her brought back memories of what he was and what that ultimately cost him. He couldn't do this now.

He managed to make it to the street and headed towards the hotel. She wasn't taking no for an answer and walked along side him.

"You still have friends, Kal.' She said, hoping he would talk to her.

"My friends are dead. Everyone's dead or haven't you been watching the news?"

"I know what happened, Kal, and I grieve for your lose, but crawling into a bottle isn't the answer."

He stopped and turned to look at her. There it was, he thought, pity. She's going to offer me her pity and then tell me everything is going to be okay. It was the same thing everyone had been saying to him for the last month. From the preacher at the funeral, the doctors, the nurses, the grief counselors at the hospital and all the rest, they all told him it would be okay. But it wasn't okay and never would be. He had listened as the preacher whispered to him that it was part of a greater plan and that Lois and Jonathan were now at peace. It was God's will, the preacher said to him.

He wanted to say _fuck you_ to the man, but instead didn't say a word, just shook his hand. When the counselor had visited him in the hospital and talked to him about the stages of grief and how he had to accept this to move passed it, again he wanted to tell her to _go fuck herself_, but he said nothing and waited for her to leave. Over and over he had to listen to person after person tell him it was going to be okay. Now Diana was going to do it.

The alcohol seemed to mix with the anger that had been building inside of him and he knew he couldn't listen one more time. He'd taken it from everyone and stayed silent, but he couldn't do it again. He wanted to stop her, hurt her, get her to leave; anything to keep her from telling him it was going to be okay. As the words left his lips he could hear the cruelty in them, but in the moment he didn't care.

"How would you know anything about grief, princess? Who have you ever lost?'

The look that came over her face told him how deeply he'd hurt her. There was a twinge of remorse, but the words were already out. He turned away from her and started walking. It was barely a moment later, when he felt himself being lifted off the ground and slammed against the brick building.

"How dare you?"

Diana was hurt badly and beside herself with anger. He had deliberately tried to wound her when she'd come to offer her help. He'd succeeded. He was so vicious and cold, nothing like the man she remembered.

"You think you're the only one who's ever lost someone they cared about?' She shouted. "You bastard! I try and offer my help to you and this is how you repay me? What happened to the man I thought I knew, Kal?"

"We knew each other for a short time, long ago, Diana, you know nothing about me. It was easy back then, before people started dying,' he replied. "Go back to you Paradise, Princess, your sisters were right about this world."

His words were like the cold edge of a knife being plunged into her heart. She drew back her fist, wanted to hit him, hurt him as he was hurting her.

"And now the hero beats up the bad man and the crowd cheers.' He dismissively said.

"Shut up!"

"That's the game, isn't it, Princess? The heroes beat the villains and put them in jail. The public adores the hero and the hero basks in their praise. Everyone just expects that the villain will get out and the game starts all over again. Bread and circuses for the masses, Diana, that's all it is. What everyone forgets is while the show goes on and on, innocent people die."

"I said shut up!"

"Temper, temper, what happened to that innocent and a bit naive Princess so full of hope I used to know?"

"She grew up,' Diana replied.

"You keep telling yourself that. Hit me or let me go, Diana, just don't tell me it will all be okay." He looked her in the eyes and she could see the sadness there. "Just don't tell me that, Princess, cause who have you ever lost that you really cared for?"

Diana held him another minute and then dropped him. He managed to stagger and not fall down. He steadied himself and started walking, never looking back. Diana just stood there as he disappeared into the darkness.

"Who have I lost? I lost you Kal,' Diana whispered. She slowly turned and floated away into the night.

* * *

><p>4 A.M.<p>

The bar had no name and no address. Officially it didn't exist, but if you knew what you were looking for, it was always open. The place was packed with drinkers, hustlers and all sorts in between. One more drink, one more attempted to hook up, one more whatever as long as you didn't have to go home. There was a desperate, forced joviality about the place.

Clark sat with his head in his hands, an empty glass in front of him. All the drinks in the world weren't going to help tonight. If he needed any more guilt than he already had, his words to Diana early certainly fit the bill. She didn't deserve that, he knew, but the words had just come pouring out. He wanted to hurt her and he knew he'd succeeded. All the pile that that been building up inside of him he'd turned on her. Once again, a friend gets hurt and it was his fault.

"Bartender, let's get the big guy here another round on me."

Clark looked up to find a man in a crisp suit smiling at him.

"You look like a man that could use a break. Am I right?" the smiling man said. Clark said nothing, but took a drink of the refilled glass.

"Hard times all over, friend,' the smiling man continued. "Getting so a guy can't earn a living wage around here anymore. You know how that is, don't you, big guy? Am I right?"

"What are you selling?" Clark asked.

"Opportunity! How would you like to see the world and get paid handsomely for it? Just think of it, travel, danger, foreign exotic lands and all the while you're getting paid for it!"

"What are you selling?" Clark repeated.

The smile slipped from the man's face. It was late and he just didn't feel like giving the rest of the hard sell again.

"I'm recruiting guys to drive truck in Iraq and Afghanistan, okay? Yes, before you ask, it is in the warzone, but you make a decent buck for your troubles.'

"The warzone, huh?"

"Yeah, I know it's a shitty deal, but I got a quota to fill, okay? I got a family to feed too, you know?"

'Sign me up," Clark said, downing the rest of the drink.


	5. Chapter 5

The Grind of Living

Washington, DC – 5 months later

Diana slipped on a robe and silently walked over to the window. It was late and the rain was just starting. She stepped out onto the terrace. A few drops touched her skin, but her eyes slowly moved over the city. In one week it would be 13 years since she arrived in the Man's World. Tom had promised to be in town and they would celebrate her anniversary. The coming milestone had her in a reflective mood tonight.

She took in the familiar lights, remembering how they had dazzled her the first time. There were so many wondrous things to see back then. She had seen them all, marveling at each and everyone. Daily this world seemed to bring some new surprise to her attention. It was glorious and then slowly it became familiar. The newness of it all faded, but life continued.

13 years, so many firsts, so many experiences, yet now it seemed that part of her life appeared over. There would never be another first kiss, first love, first battle to save the world. There would never be another moment like the first time she stood in a large scale flower grower in Holland, acres and acres of flowers just beginning bloom before her eyes. So many firsts would never come again.

A smile crossed her lips as she remembered how naïve she had been back then. How she had bristled the first time Steve had opened a door for her, thinking he was implying that she wasn't his equal. She'd since learned there were much worse things men could try to open. She quickly got used to the door thing, even came to expect it.

She was 35 now, but didn't look a day older than when she arrived. She knew the real changes weren't on the outside, but inside. In some ways she had arrived in this world half girl/half woman. Physically she was an adult, but the sheltered life she'd led on the island ill prepared her for many of the challenges she faces out here. Time had changed that. Through the triumphs and disappointments she had grown and learned. She'd made adjustments, adapted and made this her world as well. Some lessons she almost wished she hadn't learned.

Kal.

Just the thought of their last meeting infuriated her still. The sting of his words had cut so deep. Part of her wished she'd slapped him to let him know how much he'd hurt her. Her compassionate nature tried to tell her he'd lashed out in pain, and while intellectually she understood this, she still wished she'd slapped him. Such an infuriating man, she thought, but weren't they all?

That may have been the biggest adjustment of her 13 years, trying to understand men. She still wasn't sure she did. One minute they were loving, compassion adults and the next spoiled, greedy children. They could be selfless, yet stupid in the same moment, even heroes. Regular male heroes, with no special powers would still jump in front of a bullet to shield her. Diana had lost count how many close calls this had created. Yet they had their charms as well and over the years they had come to fascinate her. Steve had been the first to catch her eye, but there had been others since, from Bruce to Arthur to Tom.

And Kal.

His death had been one of the pivotal moments in her life. Before that the concept of mortality was just an abstract. That someone so bigger than life could die had been a shock to her system. It made real the possibility that she could as well. Perhaps that was the first time she truly experienced fear, mortal, tangible fear. Since then she had come to know fear many times, but learned to overcome it. Diana knew she wasn't fearless, but she didn't let it stop her either. She dealt with her fears and continued on.

I really should have slapped his face, she thought. What still bothered her about their last meeting, besides not slapping him, were his words. Yes, they had been aimed to offend and hurt, but there was a grain of truth in them as well. That made the sting even worse. How many times had she stopped Cheetah or countless others, just to have to do it over and over again. Had it just become a game? Each time they played it, it grew more violent and deadly.

As she stood there, the soft raindrops falling all around she found that reflection brought with it regret. It wasn't that she felt regret over her life, far from it, she was eternally grateful for that. It was more of a sense of lament, for choices and paths not taken. The last few years her duties as Wonder Woman, ambassador and the League seemed to take up most of her time. She gladly did her part, but as she thought back, she realized that she hadn't just been sent out as a warrior or a diplomat. She was a symbol, meant to bring a better way of peace to the world. Symbols were powerful she knew, just take Kal for example. Superman with that iconic symbol on his chest had inspired a whole generation of new heroes to fight for truth and justice. The effect that one symbol had was still being felt.

It wasn't conceit on her part, but Diana knew she was a similar symbol. It was always gratifying to hear the younger female members say they had always looked up to her as a role model and had followed her example. It was something she took very seriously, yet she wasn't supposed to be a just a symbol of a strong female warrior, she was supposed to be more than that.

Maybe that was the regret, how she had been so caught up in the day to day struggle she'd forgotten the other side of the symbol, the other side of her life. It wasn't just beauty from Aphrodite or power and speed she had been granted by the Gods, but wisdom, compassion and a love for all life. The nurturing side of her gifts had not been as evident in the last years as the physical ones. Perhaps it was time she refocused her attentions. The Embassy was well established now and while her duties were many, other sisters had stepped into increasingly important roles. The Justice League had more members than ever before; perhaps it was time she stepped back a bit from that as well.

Maybe it was time she tried to get back in touch with the Diana that had come into this world 13 years ago so full of hope and wonder. Perhaps it was the moment to rediscover that sense of hope and wonder. The lights were still as dazzling, the wonders of the world still amazing, even the flowers were just as lovely, they just weren't new any more. Perhaps this milestone wasn't just a celebration, but a time to take stock. Diana resolved to make more time for things other than battle. She would take more time for herself and her own life.

As she watched the raindrops fall, she felt she had made the first step on a path that would change her life, but perhaps it was long overdue.

She also resolved to slap Kal's face if she ever saw him again.

* * *

><p>Jalalabad Airport, Eastern Afghanistan<p>

The pain and sorrow hadn't gone away. It was a constant shadow always in the back of his mind that colored the world around him. Clark sat in the makeshift lounge the company had erected and sipped another drink. It wasn't his first and it wasn't going to be his last.

Looking around it seemed he could have been anywhere in the US, but it was just another illusion. The music, the posters, the drinks, even the people shouted Americana through and through, but open the door and another world was just outside. It was an island of America surrounded by the ancient and mysterious, Afghanistan. They weren't the first foreigners to come here and most likely wouldn't be the last. They just hoped their fate was different than all the others.

There was work here, lots of work for anyone willing to do it. It ranged from the mundane to the dangerous and the money tended to reflect this. In here it was easy to forget sometimes there was a war going on. The work, at least some of it could be easy and there were all the comforts of home provided. It's a good gig for the most part, unless you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then you were quickly reminded there was a war going on.

It's a strange limbo these people found themselves in. On the one hand they are civilians, yet on the other they are part of a military force. The soldiers and military make the distinction. The other side doesn't. You were a valid target. The risk increased the further away from the base or Green Zone you were. This naturally meant that truckers tended to be at highest risk. Clark had signed on as a trucker.

Truckers were a different breed pretty much everywhere, but especially out here. A strange eclectic mix of men in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Clark was closer to 40 but still looked like he was in his late 20s. It seemed his lose of powers hadn't effected his Kryptonian physiology. He didn't really fit in with anyone out here, but his trucking coworkers accepted him. What motivated them varied wildly, but for the most part they all shared one thing in common, they were here for the money. Oh, some were thrill seekers and others were long time employees, but money was their shared motivation, at least for most of them.

Officially in the corporate records he was Kal Kent from the Midwest, but that was only officially. As was the custom with truckers and military world round, there were nicknames. Clark had a nickname and that's all anyone used out here. Nicknames were usually something rather obvious, Shorty for a short guy, Red for a red haired man or Curly for the bald guy. Clark again was the exception to this rule. He was a loner that said nothing of his past and made no effort to make friends, yet his coworkers liked him. There was just something about him. They also respected and feared him to some degree.

If you were to ask them, they wouldn't say it right out, but many believed he had a death wish. He seemed to care nothing about his safety, taking the most dangerous assignments freely. When he wasn't driving, he was here drinking or back in his tent sleeping. By now everyone was familiar with the nightmares that visited him almost every night. He was a haunted soul and it was eating away at him. The company doctor had tried getting him to talk, but this met with no success, just a cold, bone-chilling stare.

His coworkers had learned to leave him to his demons. At first they worried about him, but as the months passed they started worrying about themselves. Riding with him was dangerous. Two men from their group had already died in ambushes in the last month. Riding with someone who had a death wish seemed like a pretty good way of joining them. Three trucks he'd been driving had been attacked and destroyed; yet he somehow managed to survive. He almost seemed disappointed about this.

It was how he earned his nickname: Pale Horse, cause everyone believed death was riding with him.

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

Another night, another patrol, it was late as Bruce finally returned to the cave. His body was sore all over and cried out for sleep, yet he didn't give in just yet. At 38 he had been doing this for 17 years. It hadn't gotten any easier. While he took some pride in the fact that Gotham, long a notoriously lawless town now had order, he didn't fool himself into believing it would last. Vigilance was the price and he was still willing to pay it.

17 years, it had been such a struggle. At every turn he had a fight on his hands. Cleaning the ingrained corruption in the police force had been an ongoing battle, yet for the most part it was achieved. The same went for the politicians for the most part. Crime rates were actually trending down for the first time in the city's long, troubled history and Bruce liked to think he played a part in all of that.

The problem was that he was becoming a victim of his reputation and success. Every new, young thug wanted to make a name for himself by taking on the Batman. Each day they seemed to get younger, stronger and more brutal. As he entered tonight's data into his files, he knew it wasn't the criminals getting younger it was him getting older.

38 should have been the prime of his life, yet that wasn't the case for heroes or crime fighters. Like athletes, the body tends to breakdown after years of abuse. He was a half step slower and his punch wasn't quite as hard now, as when he started. He made up for this with his intelligence and experience. If anything, he was probably better now then he had ever been.

For how much longer, that was the question?

Bruce had never been one to delude himself. He knew at his core, he was just a man. The real possibility was certainly there that soon, just his physical and intellectual gifts wouldn't be enough. Night after night for all these years was finally starting to wear him down. Yes, there were new heroes in Gotham, most of whom he'd trained, but the mission he still felt was primarily his. He would never ask someone else to do something he wouldn't do.

Hard choices would have to be made.

The very nature of what he was accustomed to doing would have to be changed. Part of him resisted this, but as he slipped off his top and saw his battled scarred upper body he knew the truth. Time was running out.

* * *

><p>Jalalabad Airport, Eastern Afghanistan<p>

It was night and from the outside the main hall was completely dark. Cheers and laughter could be heard though. The USO was paying them a visit and this was always a welcome sight for everyone. Perhaps it was just seeing a bit of home again or knowing they hadn't been forgotten out here, but a more appreciative audience couldn't be found anywhere.

Diana stood backstage wondering again how she had let Zatanna talk her into this. Maybe Wally was right she was an easy touch. Even as Zatanna imploring her to come, Diana knew what this would be, yet she had agreed. Zee had laid it on thick, talking about giving back to not just the soldiers, but the aid workers, the peacekeepers, the staff and technicians. She talked about how excited they would all be just to know that Wonder Woman was there for see them.

Yes, she was definitely an easy touch, for here she was.

Zatanna had also roped Dinah into this as well. It must have been Zatanna's naturally bubble personality that hadn't changed with the passing of the years that got to both of them. They both complained about this, but still agreed and here they were. Dinah surprised Diana when she sang for the crowd. They were enthusiastic in response. Zatanna was the headliner, her magic show always amazing. Diana's role was rather simple. She would walk out on the stage and wave to the gathering. This was enthusiastically greeted with approval too.

She told herself it was demeaning, that basically she was a substitute for the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, eye candy for hungry eyes, but when she talked to the men and women one on one it all seemed worth it. Most seemed so young, yet they were out here doing their jobs in some of the most difficult circumstances. Maybe it was the passing of the years, but if her gifts from Aphrodite could help a little, she guessed she could put up with a few whistles and shouts.

Currently Zatanna was on stage building up the big finish of her show. Dinah was signing autographs and posing for pictures with some of the young service men, while Diana was trying to explain to both the base commander and the corporate liaison that while they appreciated their offers of protection and transportation, it wasn't really necessary.

The commander was insisting they spend the night and then head out at first light with an armed escort. The corporate liaison was offering to get his drivers to take them tonight. Diana repeatedly told them that Zatanna could certainly transport them anywhere they wanted or if need be she could fly them all. It didn't seem to be getting through to them. To make matters more complicated, Dinah and Zatanna were in favor of staying or getting a ride. Apparently the idea of spending a little more time with the young, rugged service men was rather appealing.

* * *

><p>Outside a cargo supply convoy was just pulling in. It had been a quiet, but nerve wracking drive cross-country. As they pulled through the checkpoint and the perimeter gates, there was a collective sigh from most of the drivers. They had heard the USO was going to be there tonight and while they didn't know whom it would be, they were eager to find out.<p>

One driver lingered behind all the rest. Clark's hair was shorn close, but the beard and mustache had filled in substantially. Facial hair was a sign of masculinity in this part of the world and many contract workers as well as Special Forces had adopted it. The constant days spent in the hot sun had darkened his skin considerably. He was thinner, but still possessed a powerful frame that was hard not to notice. He was tired and needed a drink, but as the door to the main hall was opened he heard the cheers and laughter. Several of the other drivers called for him to join them but he waved them off. He wasn't in a celebratory mood. They expect this, just put it down to his nature and then quickly crowded inside.

The bar was pretty much empty as he ordered a drink and carried it to one of the unoccupied tables. He took a sip, feeling the cool burn all the way down his throat. Another day was over, but he knew the grind of life would start again in the morning. A wave of sadness and melancholy came over him. He finished the drink and ordered another. It didn't seem to be helping. As he sat there alone, memories came flooding back. No, not tonight, he told himself, yet he couldn't seem to stop them.

Tossing a couple of bucks on the bar, he quickly made it outside. Clark leaned against the metal wall his hands covering his face as fresh tears started to fall. No, no, no, he whispered, but still they came. Sobs wracked his whole body as the agony came rushing back. How long he stood there silently crying he didn't know. It was that sound of applause that finally made him look up. Two servicemen had just arrived at the show and opened the door. Clark wiped his eyes as he saw the light spill out for just a moment and heard the crowd.

Perhaps it was something that would distract him even for a little while, he thought. Anything was better than returning to his tent. Slowly he straightened himself up and wiped his face dry. He walked towards the main hall, the cheers and laughter getting louder with each step. When he finally opened the door it was like being hit with a wave of sound. It took him a moment to adjust and then he stepped inside. Several drivers saw him and called to him, he raised his hand in return, but made no move towards them.

He stepped to the side and stayed in the back, as he finally got his first look at the act on stage. A magician, a rather shapely female magician had her back to the crowd as she rummaged around in a top hat. At the very moment recognition hit Clark she disappeared into the hat. Several people to his left gasped and then started to applaud. As he turned, he saw Zatanna only five feet away from him. She was smiling as she turned towards him.

"Enjoying the show, guys?" She asked, but then the smile froze on her face for a moment as she recognized Clark. He quickly moved back and out of her eyesight. Zatanna was momentarily flustered, but she was a professional and the show must go on. She started back towards the stage as the crowd cheered. She kept glancing over her shoulder trying to see him again, but it was hopeless.

She climbed up onto the stage and took her bows and then signaled the others to join her. Dinah came out to cheers and so did Diana. They bowed and waved as the ovation went on and on. The commander and corporate liaison came on stage too. They urged the crowd to show the League members how much they appreciated them being here and the crowd quickly responded.

Against the din of noise the commander and liaison tried one last time to convince Diana. She patiently refused, trying to explain one more time why it wasn't necessary. Dinah and Zee were offering counter opinions, but Diana held fast. It was only when Zatanna leaned in and whispered in Diana's ear that her opinion changed.

"I think he's here, Diana, Clark."

Diana's eyes immediately went to the crowd, roaming over all the faces. It took a moment, but with her keen eyesight she found him.

"I still think you should stay the night and leave tomorrow,' the commander said.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind, Wonder Woman,' the liaison said. "You can have your pick of our best drivers?"

Diana turned to the man.

"I think I will take you up on your kind offer,' she replied.

"Really? Well, okay,' the man said with a big grin. He turned and pointed, directing her attention the group in the back. "Now those fellows in the back work for the company so pick who you want."

"Oh, so many interesting ones to choice from," Dinah said with a smile.

"I'll take him."

Diana immediately said and pointed to one man. The commander, the liaison, the whole crowd turned to see who she was talking about. When recognition set in on who she had picked, the commander and liaison got a little nervous.

"Him, are you sure?'

"Yes."

"Okay,' the man hesitantly replied. He then called out. "Horse! We got a job for you!'

"Horse?" Diana asked.

"It's a nickname."

She had already experienced how nicknames worked out here, having met Red and Curly. She found herself blushing as she asked, "Um, ah, why is he called Horse?"

"It's short for Pale Horse, cause only death wants to ride with that fellow."

Diana turned and looked out at the crowd again. Clark hadn't met her eyes, but was talking with the liaison's assistant. Zatanna and Dinah were having a wonderful time making their choices, as everyone seemed to be begging to be picked. Diana turned to the commander and liaison.

"I'm just going to check and make sure we didn't forget anything in the temporary quarters you so graciously provided us. Could you have that man meet me there?"

"Of course, Wonder Woman, of course."

"Thank you."

Diana flashed them her dazzling smile but as she walked off stage, it disappeared as she glanced back out at the audience.

* * *

><p>A short time later, Clark reluctantly made his way to what were the guest quarters. It had been a shock seeing Zatanna and Dinah, but especially Diana. He only half remembered the last time they saw each other and he regretted what he'd said to her. Frankly he didn't want to see her again. He'd tried to decline, but the company man said it wasn't a request. He was a driver and was being paid to drive whoever or whatever they told him to drive.<p>

He'd gone to the ends of the Earth to get away from everything and everyone he'd known and now she was here. He didn't want to see her. He could still remember the look of hurt in her eyes. He'd said such cruel things that she didn't deserve just to push her away. God, I don't want to do this, he thought.

It took much longer than it should have, but finally he reached the door. Sighing, he raised his hand and knocked. He'd barely finished when the door opened and she was standing in front of him.

"Kal."

"Diana."

He didn't get to say another word, as she slapped him, hard. He found himself on the ground looking up at her, his face stinging.

"I guess I deserve that,' he finally said, rubbing his jaw.

"Yes, you do and I promised myself I would if I ever saw you again. I like to keep my promises."


	6. Chapter 6

50 Grand

Jalalabad, Afghanistan

Diana stood waiting as Clark slowly got to his feet.

"Are you alright,' she asked, noticing he was still holding his jaw.

"That's a loaded question,' he replied.

"I meant your jaw."

"Yeah."

"Good."

He was just a little taller than her and now that they were facing each other, Diana wasn't sure what to say. She'd been angry and the slap had been her first thought, but now she remembered the rest.

"Kal, I …" Diana started to say, but they were interrupted by the commander and company liaison.

"Is everything all right here, Wonder Woman?"

"Has this man been disrespectful to you? We saw you slap him."

Diana looked at them and back at Clark. He had taken a step back and wasn't looking at her. She knew she had to come up with some reason besides the truth for why she'd slapped him, so she went with her first thought. Admittedly lying wasn't one of Diana's strong suits.

"Um, well, yes, he, um, well, ah, got a little fresh, but it's all taken care of. No reason to worry."

The two men turned and looked at Clark. His head snapped up to look at her.

"What?" The commander and liaison said in unison.

"What?" Clark also said.

'That will not be tolerate by an employee, Horse!"

"And not on my base,' the Commander added. "Wonder Woman is an honored guest here!"

"We're deeply sorry, Wonder Woman,' the liaison said. "This man will be formally reprimanded and I'll have another driver take his place immediately."

"What?" It was Diana's turn to say it. "No, no, that's not necessary, really. The matters over and done with and I still want him as my driver. Let's just forget about it."

The commander and liaison seemed surprise by this and didn't know what to say. It was Clark that finally spoke up.

"No, I owe the lady an apology. What I said I am sorry for. Truly sorry."

Diana looked at him and could tell he was talking about the last time they met. His eyes flicked up to look into hers for just a moment, but then they shifted to the commander and liaison.

"I had a couple of drinks earlier," he explained. "That doesn't excuse anything, but it's probably for the best that someone else drive her. I should probably go sleep it off and again I'm deeply sorry for everything, Wonder Woman."

He moved to leave and Diana found herself reaching out to stop him. This wasn't what she wanted by any means.

"No! I mean, that's not necessary!'

Dinah and Zatanna had arrived just as Clark was walking away. The both looked at him and then at Diana and the officials.

"What's going on?"

"That man got fresh with Wonder Woman,' the liaison immediately replied.

"Him? Really?" Dinah said, a little flabbergasted by the news. Both her and Zee turned to look at Clark as he continued walking away.

"The company and the base apologize, this isn't tolerate by either of us,' the commander said. The liaison immediately agreed. "I'll have ten other drivers over here in a matter of minutes for you to choice from Wonder Woman."

Diana was only half listening, as her eyes had been on Clark the whole time. The situation had gone completely wrong. She wanted the opportunity to talk to him, but she let her temper get in the way. Hera, some role model, she thought, and here I was going on about how mature I am the other night.

While she was thinking all this, the liaison was talking about drivers with Zatanna and Dinah. Finally Diana spoke up and dismissed the idea, as the only reason she had agreed was to talk to Kal.

"Let's just forget the whole situation, please,' she said. "Thank you again for your offer, but Zatanna can easily transport us back to my invisible jet."

"What?" This was Dinah and Zatanna's turn.

"I hope this hasn't spoiled your visit, Wonder Woman,' the commander asked. "We really do appreciate that you took the time to come out here. It means a lot to everyone here, that all of you would come."

"No, no, it was our pleasure,' Diana replied. "Let's just forget about this."

"Are you sure we can't change your mind,' the liaison asked."I can have the charges drawn up in a matter of moments."

"No, no, let's just forget it,' Diana sadly said.

"So can we change your mind,' the commander asked.

"Yeah, can we,' Zatanna asked.

"No, but thank you for having us,' Diana said to the commander and liaison. There were more apologies and thank yous before the men finally left. Diana sighed in frustration and regret, but it seemed there was nothing else to do. She couldn't just go looking around the base for him. That would raise more questions that anyone wanted to answer.

"So Clark got fresh with you,' Dinah finally asked.

"What? No, no, I slap him that's all,' Diana replied. "We should probably go as there is nothing else to do here."

"It won't be as fun as the drive,' Zee lamented.

"Just transport us back, Zatanna,' Diana said to her.

"Okay,' she reluctantly replied. The three moved together as Zatanna started the spell. A thought occurred to her and she stopped momentarily and turned to Diana.

"So did you find out why he's nicknamed Horse, by any chance?"

This earned her a stern look from Diana and a slap from Dinah.

"Ow! What? You were curious too,' Zee protested to Dinah.

"Just transport us, please,' Diana said. After giving Dinah a look Zee nodded and then continued with the spell. In the next moment they vanished from the base.

* * *

><p>Boston<p>

Shayera slowly flew over the city that had become her home in recent years. She would have never imagined when she first arrived that she would still be on Earth, but circumstances had changed. While she had come to love her new home, there were still times she missed Thanagar. To always be the outsider wore on her. She had many friends and associates and a good life here, but sometimes she just wish to be with her own people again. To speak her own language, talk about her own history and just to be among people like herself was something she hadn't realized she'd miss until it was gone.

Then again, she missed so many things from earlier in her life. John Stewart, the name still brought so many emotions to her even after all this time. Their relationship had never been easy, especially in the early days, but perhaps that was the lure. It had certainly made things interesting back in the early days of the League that was for sure.

Now John was dead.

Five years had passed but she could still remember it as if it occurred yesterday. They hadn't been together, having both moved on, but she always believed there was still a possibility that one day they might get back together. She secretly believed he thought so as well. But they hadn't and never would now. John had made his choice and Shayera honestly believe he and Mari were happy together. She'd even become friends with Mari as time went by.

Why she was having these thoughts tonight she didn't know. Maybe it was the recent news about Clark being alive that stirred up all the old memories. Even after months since first hearing it, it almost didn't seem real. Maybe a part of her was thinking if Clark could come back from the dead, then maybe… No, Clark hadn't been dead and John was. John wasn't making a miraculous reappearance.

As she landed on her balcony, she could hear the music. It was music from back home. Apparently she wasn't the only one that felt homesick now and then. She opened the door and saw Kator standing with his back to her.

"You're late,' he said, not turning around.

"It took longer than I expected to get the situation under control,' she replied.

"Yes, I saw it on the news. You looked lovely, by the way."

He turned now and smiled at her. They had been together for three years and they had been good years, she thought. Both being from Thanagar, they shared so many things in common. He was a good man and a hero.

"Thank you,' she said, returning his smile. "What is that you have in your hands?'

She had just noticed it and could tell it was Thanagarian.

"Caught me,' he said. "I was checking the news back home."

"And?"

"Not good. Things have gotten worse, but then I was expecting that."

"How much worse?'

"Worse."

She took off her helmet and moved over to him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his body. She gave him a hug and leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing down at the device he held in his hands.

"I still wish there was something we could do,' she lamented.

"As do I, but we both made choices that make it impossible,' he replied.

"I noticed the music, do you still miss it,' she asked.

"Yes, but I've built a new life here. We both made choices that there is no going back from. We knew that when we made them, Shayera."

"I know." She nodded. "But there are still times I can't help thinking about it.'

"Yes, I still dream of Thanagar, but I'm afraid that's the only way I'm ever going to see it again, in my dreams."

Silence came over both of them. They just stood there, holding each other and listend to the music.

* * *

><p>Jalalabad<p>

A few days had passed since the League members visit. Officially Clark had been reprimanded, but unofficial, he was something of a celebrity now. Word had spread that he made a pass at Wonder Woman and as the story got repeated, in each new telling he apparently got bolder and bolder. He found as he moved about the base, he was getting more than his share of looks and comments from both men and women. It was attention he didn't want or need. A few brave souls even asked him directly, but he brushed them off and gave no information.

The one person that didn't think too much of him was the liaison. They never had much of a relationship, but now the man was openly hostile to him. Frankly, Clark didn't really care he was just here to do a job. He had other things on his mind and the likes and dislikes of the liaison were insignificant in comparison.

Ten days had passed, when Clark was called to the office. He arrived and found three other men had been summoned as well. The three had been in trouble and it was assumed they would either face some sort of court here or be shipped back home. Either way, things were not looking good for them. Why Clark had been summoned, he didn't have a clue. Certainly the incident with Diana didn't rise to the level of offenses that these men had committed.

As they waited in the liaison's waiting room, they could tell something serious was up by the way the secretaries kept looking at them. In was probably ten minutes before the liaison finally buzzed a secretary to send them in. They entered and sat down, Clark on the far right. The liaison had their folders in front of him, as a small fan silently blew cool air around his office. He read their names one by one. He glanced at each man as he did.

"Joseph Nelson. Phillip Carter, Robert Lynn and Kal Kent. I imagine you're wondering why you're here?"

The men nodded.

"We have a special assignment and you four have been chosen,' the liaison explained. "One of the forward camps near the border has been seeing heavy action. They need resupplied. The army doesn't want to drop them in, so you four are going to drive them there."

"Why us,' Joe asked.

"Cause the company decided to give you another chance. You do this and the slate is clean. Plus there is a bonus of 50 thousand dollars for each of you."

"What's the catch,' Clark asked.

"Yeah, there must be something more,' Bob added.

"You will also be transporting a rather volatile new explosive,' the liaison explained with a smile. "Think of it as nitroglycerine on steroids. You'll have to take extra special caution, as it is just as fickle if not more so as nitro."

"No way, uh-uh,' Joe said. Bob and Phil nodded in agreement. "That's a suicide mission, you're talking about."

"That all depends on you and your so called driving expertise, doesn't it?"

"Get somebody else."

"I don't think you appreciate the situation, gentlemen,' the liaison said. "You are being given a chance, this one chance. Otherwise, the company will expedite your cases and make sure you never work in the industry again. There's also the matter of the locals. They are very interested in you as well."

He'd laid the threat right out for them, do this or else. The three men had little choice and finally agreed. They seemed to get some of their bravado back as they started to talk about the 50 grand they would make. They got up and left the office, but Clark remained seated. The liaison turned back to his work for a moment and then looked up at Clark.

"Yes?"

"What you're doing is wrong,' Clark flatly stated.

"That's one opinion."

"It's the right one."

"It's a choice and those men made it,' the liaison explained. "You have a choice too, Kal or Horse as they so colorfully call you."

"I'm in no trouble with the locals."

"No, but you have a problem with me,' the liaison replied. "I don't like you, Horse, I never have. I actually wished Wonder Woman would have let me bring you up on charges, but she declined. You're going on this assignment or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I'll pick someone else,' the liaison said with a cold smile. "You see I figured you out. You pretend you don't care about anything, but you do. You either go or I pick say, let's see who we have, oh, yes, Carlos Davila, he'll do nicely."

Clark's jaw tightened. Carlos Davila was only twenty-two and had a family. He was here trying to make enough money for them to buy a house. He was a good kid, out here just trying to make a better life for him and his own.

"You see Kal, I can send him in your place,' the liaison continued. "I can live with the consequences, but can you? If something happens out there and God forbid, Carlos dies; you'll know he was just taking your place. That's your choice, Horse, him or you?"

Clark sat just staring at the man for almost a minute. He wanted to reach across the desk and snatch the liaison up and show him what he really thought of him, but that would solve nothing. He was forcing a choice on Clark and there was only one real option.

"All right, I'll go,' Clark finally said.

"See? I knew you would, you do care, how sweet." The liaison said with a grin.

"I'll go and when I come back, I'll be looking for you."

Clark let the words hang in the air as he got up and walked out of the office. The smile slipped just a bit on the liaison's face.

* * *

><p>The Motor Pool<p>

The assignment just got worse as they went along. The region they were going to, the mountain roads were hardly the best. The new heavier trucks wouldn't make it they were told, so they would have to make do with some of the older, lighter ones. Two had apparently been picked out for them. They were holdovers from the Soviet era and had seen better days a long time ago.

The four watched as the cargo was loaded. Special precautions were taken just to load the new explosive. Once it were on board, the other supplies were carefully loaded around them.

"I wouldn't take too long if I was you guys,' one of the handlers said. "That stuff is damn unstable and the sooner you get it there the better."

Sweat began to roll down the skin of each of the four as they thought about the trip ahead.

"Just think about that money, 50 grand each will buy us a lot of whores when we get back,' Joe said with a laugh. He was an older man, perhaps in his late 40s with something of a shady past. He was full of bravado and was always boasting about his exploits. Phil and Bob were in their early thirties. Both had come out here for the money. They thought it would be easy, but as the reality set in they started getting into trouble. None of the three really wanted to be here, but they didn't have many options.

It was decided they would run the shipment up in a staggered fashion, keeping their distance in case of an explosion. As Clark checked over the motor and truck one more time, the other three had a drink and talked about what they were going to do with the money. Something they said stopped Clark. It seemed the liaison had informed the others that while it was 50 grand each if they all made it, if they didn't the non-surviving member's share would be divided up between the survivors. He had just given desperate men an added incentive to let their greed lose once they were beyond society's eyes. Clark was definitely going to see the liaison when he got back. Now it suddenly changed from when to if he got back.

The others decided that Joe would ride with Clark. Bob and Phil would follow them, letting them have the honor of leading. Joe and Clark hadn't gotten along much in the time both were here. They tended to avoid each other if they could. Now they were going to spend a long time in a truck together.

"So Horse, what are you going to do with the money? You like the dangerous ones, don't you? I heard about Wonder Woman and I like your taste my friend. If I got my hands on that body, oh what a time I would have!"

He started to laugh, but stopped when he saw the look on Clark's face.

"Don't talk about her, ever,' Clark said, his voice as cold as ice.

"Touchy, touchy,' Joe relied.

"Just get in the truck and let's do this."

"Who put you in charge? You've only been here a few months, while I've been here over a year. Let's be clear, Horse, I'll do what I want and say what I want that includes your precious Wonder Woman, understand? She gives you a little taste of sugar and you get all sentimental over her. She's just another piece of ass as far as I'm concerned."

The next moment found Joe on the ground, courtesy of Clark's fist. The others stopped and waited to see what would happen next. Joe slowly got to his feet and then took a swing at Clark. He missed and once again was driven to the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" Joe shouted, but he didn't make another attempt.

"We're stuck together, but let's be clear,' Clark said. 'We're not buddies and we're not friends. So keep you mouth shut and this will go a lot smoother."

"Bastard,' Joe grumbled, but got up and went over and climbed into the truck. Clark stood for a moment, his fist clinched as anger churned inside of him. Slowly he took several deep breaths and calmed down. He looked over at the other two.

"Let's get this started."

They quickly nodded in agreement and scrambled towards their truck. Clark slowly walked over and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine started with a whine and the roared to life. He shifted and they head for the gate. Joe didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>Twenty Clicks North<p>

They were at the base of the mountains and it was hot. They stopped to check the map and fill up on water. The temperature would change several times as they climbed. The road was little more than a trail the closer they got to their destination. It was hostile and dangerous country all the way. This was the last village for a while, from here it would be pretty much non-stop.

Clark had picked up a smattering of the local languages and he talked with some of the villagers about what lie ahead. They warned him that some of the bridges were very old. He relayed this to the others.

"It might be wise to go around them,' he suggested. He laid the map on the hood of the truck and showed the others. "There's another road just off here. It will take us a lot longer, but it's safer."

"No, we stick with the map,' Joe immediately replied. "How do we know we can even trust these people? We're the invaders remember? They probably want to set us up."

The other two voiced their agreement with Joe.

"The company said this is the way to go and that's good enough for me,' Phil said.

"Damn straight,' Bob added. "Those bastards are probably trying to send us right into an ambush."

"Look, I'm sure that's a possibility, but I don't think so,' Clark argued. "These people have lived in these parts all their lives; they know the trails a lot better than the company. I think they're on the level and it's probably better to take the other route.

"No! We stick to the map!"

"This is a democracy, isn't it Horse?' Joe said with a smile. "Three against one, we stick to the map."

Clark wanted to argue but could see it was hopeless. They were determined to stick to the map the company provided no matter what. They were in this together, so there wasn't much choice.

"All right, we'll do it your way."

The other three seemed pleased at this, especially Joe. They got back in the trucks and headed towards the mountains.

* * *

><p>The road quickly started to climb and got narrower as they went. Clark downshifted to 1st gear wanting to take this as easy as he could.<p>

"Give it some gas, Horse, at this rate it will take forever,' Joe complained.

"If we go any faster, we won't make it at all."

"Losing your nerve already?' Joe asked. "It's getting chilly, but I notice you're sweating."

"Look over the side, Joe,' Clark said. Joe leaned forward and could see it was a sheer drop from the edge. He glanced at the road again and it seemed much smaller suddenly.

"You seem to be sweating too, Joe."

"Shut up and drive!"

The first smile of the day came to Clark's lips but he didn't say anything.

* * *

><p>The rain had started. It was a cold soaking rain that plastered their clothes to their skin. The old wipers were beating a constant rhythm on the windshield, but didn't clear the rain fast enough. The windows were open; as they both leaned out to make sure they weren't too far one way or the other. Bits of dirt that had turned to mud slipped away from the edge as the tires rolled over them. The drop over the edge was getting further and further.<p>

Clark could just see the other truck when he glanced back. They seemed to be following his cautious lead now or they were just content to let him find the problems first. Either way, they continued up the mountain.

* * *

><p>Clark and Joe stood in front of the truck looking at the bridge. The gorge it spanned was over a river. The continuing rain had caused it to swell. The bridge itself looked as if it had been built at the beginning of time. Old rope and rotted wood made up the bridge. The wind and river rushed by as the bridge swayed dangerously.<p>

"We can make it, you drive I'll guide you,' Joe said. Either job was dangerous, but the man in the truck faced much longer odds of making it.

'We should turn back, go the other way,' Clark suggested.

"Where? Where are you going to turn around," Joe asked. "You heard the man back at the base, the longer this takes the more unstable that stuff in the truck gets!"

"We try crossing that bridge and this trip will be over,' Clark replied.

"We're crossing it and you're driving!"

They looked at each other, neither budging. The rain was so hard it was coming sideways at them. They were soaked and shivering.

'We should try and go back,' Clark said again.

"No!' Joe reached into his coat pocket and pulled a gun. He pointed it at Clark.

"We're going over that bridge! I told you once before you're not in charge!"

"And you are?"

"Yes, this makes me in charge,' Joe said, waving the gun at Clark. "I could shoot you right here and now, no one would know. I could say the other side ambushed us and you didn't make it. Everyone would believe me."

"And you get to split my share of the money, right?"

"Yes.' Joe smiled. "Now get in the truck and drive. We're crossing that bridge!"

Clark weighted the odds that he could get to Joe before he fired a shot. They weren't good. A shot would also alert anyone in the neighborhood of their location. He'd done some checking before they left and this was definitely an area known for harboring the other side. So even if he were able to disarm Joe, it probably would make the situation even worse.

"All right, we cross the bridge, 'he finally said.

"Not so tough now, are you, Horse,' Joe asked.

"Just guide me and shut up.'

Clark turned his back on Joe and climbed into the driver seat. Joe felt like shooting him, but he was playing the odds. He needed Clark driving the truck so he would wait. He slipped the gun back into his pocket and picked his way out onto the old bridge. A plank gave way under his foot and he screamed as he fell. Grabbing desperately he clutched the rope and stop himself from falling into the river. He was shaking as he pulled himself back up. He sat there, his heart pounding, fear overwhelming him. It was the sound of the truck engine that finally made him look up. Slowly he waved his hand for the truck to come on.

Clark shifted into low and ever so slowly eased the truck onto the bridge. He could hear the old wood creak and groan even over the rain and wind. His clothes were soaked with rain and sweat. His breathing was shallow as inch by inch he moved forward. Joe was shouting to come on, waving his arms, but Clark didn't move any faster. He watched Joe, following his directions. He stopped as the wind threatened to tip the bridge, the weight of the truck dangerously close to shifting too much. Joe clung to the opposte side rope, thinking this was it. Seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. The wood and rope groaned under the strain, but both men just waited.

The wind slowed just a bit and the truck swayed back the other way. Joe called to Clark and he let off the brake and inched the truck forward. The bridge rocked the truck from side to side. Clark nervously looked in the rearview mirror at the cargo, but there was no time for focusing on that now. He moved forward again and one of the planks gave way under the front tire. The truck lurched forward and down. Clark was sure it was all over, but the cargo didn't react.

Joe stood frozen in his spot, waiting for the explosion. At this distance he was sure he was going to die. Tears started rolling down his face as the pressure got too much. He fell to his knees and crawled the rest of the way off the bridge to the other side and just sat there. The creak of wood caused him to look up and watch as Clark eased the truck forward, slowly getting the tire back on the bridge. Joe found his courage again and started guiding Clark forward. He stayed on the bank, but shouted to come on.

Clark alternated between watching Joe and gazing out the open window at the bridge just below him. Millimeter by millimeter he advanced, watching in an almost detached way as the bits of wood flaked off the sides of the planks and disappeared into the water below. He was almost there now, almost across. Every instinct told him to just gun it and make the last few feet as quickly as he could. He desperately wanted to reach the safety of the bank, but he had to keep his head. The truck was too heavy and already the bridge seemed at its limits. He tuned out Joe cursing him to come on and just focused on making it one more inch, then one more foot.

He stopped as one of the side ropes gave way. The bridge pitched to the right and the truck swayed with it. The bank was only a few feet away, but he waited and waited. It seemed time slowed down as he and the truck hung there just on the edge of tipping over and falling into the river. Clark held his breath, waiting, just waiting. Finally the wind swayed the bridge the other way and he started inching forward again. The board groaned and cracked under the truck's weight. He got the front tires onto the bank and then eased it forward. The others were still behind them and Clark had no doubt they would try crossing this too. They were all damn fools, himself included.

He felt the back tires find traction in the mud slick bank and eased the truck off the bridge. He'd made it. Joe climbed into the passenger side laughing.

"You just made us both an extra 50 grand, Horse! There is no way those two will make it across!"

Joe laughed even harder at this.

"Shut up."

* * *

><p>They reached a plateau and the road flattened out. on either side of the road the terrain fell away drastically, but it was passable. Both men felt a sense of ease come over them as they stopped to rest for a moment.<p>

"So what are you going to do with your share of the money, Kal,' Joe asked.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, you obviously like women if the rumors are true."

Clark flashed him a look and Joe raised his hands as if to signal a truce.

"I didn't mention her name, I'm just saying,' Joe quickly replied. "Are you trying to tell me you haven't thought about a woman? You've been out here for months."

"Yes, I've thought about a woman,' Clark quietly replied. Memories came flooding back and the pain returned.

"I knew it," Joe said with a smile. "What did she do, break your heart back home or something? Is that why you're out here?"

"What do you want, Joe,' Clark asked, not answering the question.

"Just making conversation, that's all. We just beat death, so I'm feeling good." Joe chuckled and pulled out his gun. He stroked it with his fingers and smiled at Clark. "I'm glad I didn't shoot you back there, Kal."

"Yeah, me too."

"I probably could have made it across by myself, but you were very good."

"Thanks.'

"So do you miss it, America, I mean?"

"Do you?'

"Yes. I haven't been back in ten years, but I miss it,' Joe replied. "This money is going to help me go back in style. Once they pay us, screw the company; I'm out of this hellhole. It's time to go home."

'Where's home?" Clark asked

"Houston, Texas,' Joe said proudly. "A hundred grand will let me live large back there."

"You don't know, they might have made it across the bridge."

"True, but I doubt it,' Joe admitted. "50 grand is still a lot of money."

"Not as much as you think."

"Enough to get me home, Kal, that's all that matters,' Joe replied.

The rumbled of an engine in the distance caused them both to turn. It slowly got closer until they saw the other truck heading towards them.

"You just lost 50 grand, Joe."

"We're not there yet."

Bob and Phil pulled up next to them. They looked worn out and emotionally spent as they climbed down.

"That fucking bridge nearly killed us,' Phil shouted. "It gave way just as we got to this side!"

"We thought we were done for,' Bob added.

"But you made it,' Joe replied. There wasn't any joy in his words.

"Already thinking of splitting our share, weren't you?'

"Thought about it."

"Keeping dreaming, Joe, we made it this far, we'll make it the rest of the way,' Bob said.

"Yeah, it looks like smooth sailing from here on out,' Phil offered. "We all but have that money in our hands."

"Not yet,' Joe replied.

"So what are we waiting for?" Phil asked. "Since you were so kind as to lead the way this far, we'll take over from here."

"Have it your way,' Clark said.

"Yes, by all means, lead the way,' Joe added with a smile.

"We will."

Phil and Bob climbed back in their truck and headed out. Clark knew something was up with Joe, but he never expected what came next. Just as the other truck reached the first curve, Joe pulled out his gun and fired.

"No!" Clark shouted, but it was too late. The bullet hit the other truck's tire and it blew. The truck then lurched and tipped over. The explosion knocked Joe and Clark off their feet. When Clark looked up there was nothing but a fireball remaining of the other truck. He heard Joe start to laugh and felt rage overtake him. Clark scrambled up and lunged at Joe. Joe tried shooting him, but missed. Clark drove his shoulder into Joe's gut and knocked him to the ground. He pried the gun from Joe's hands and then hit him. Joe struggled and fought back, but Clark just continued to hit him.

"You bastard! You killed them!" Clark shouted in anger. His fist hit Joe's face over and over, turning it into a blood mess. He would have killed him if not for another shot that hit the hard soil next to him. Several more shots followed.

"It's the insurgence! Your damn shot told them right where we were,' Clark shouted. He grabbed Joe by the jacket and pulled him over to the cover of the truck. Joe coughed and spat out some blood.

"Where's my gun? I can hold them off."

"Don't be stupid, they had rifles,' Clark said, "They would cut you down before you ever got close to it."

"So what's your plan? Stay here and let them shoot at the cargo?" Joe snapped. "They'll blow us to Kingdom Come, you moron!"

"We'll have to run for it,' Clark said, already moving towards the driver's side.

"You do have a death wish, don't you,' Joe shouted. "You run and we'll either blow up from their bullets or from the cargo shaking! We'll be in the same place as Bob and Phil if we run!"

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to see you,' Clark replied. "Now get in the truck!"

As Clark crawled in, he noticed the shooting had stopped. Joe must have noticed this too, as he made a quick dash to retrieve his gun. He grabbed it and stuck it in his jacket before scrambling back to the truck and climbing in.

"What are you waiting for?" He demanded. "If you're going to run, then run."

"I think they have other ideas."

Clark pointed out the front windshield at the five men standing in front of them. They were all dress in black and holding rifles pointed at them. The man who must be the leader shouted for them to get out of the truck. Clark saw Joe reach for his pocket.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"You get out, I'm not,' Joe replied.

Clark wanted to argue, but the leader shouted again, demanding they got out. With a sigh of resignation, Clark opened the door and climbed out. He kept his hands above his head as he stepped away from the truck. The men moved closer, pointing the rifles at him. They demanded Joe get out, but he pretend to be sick and didn't understand. He started coughing and shaking his head. The leader turned to Clark and shouted for him to tell his friend to get out. Clark only knew a little of the language but he tried to explain they were only transporters, not soldiers. This earned him a rifle butt to the stomach.

"We're not soldiers,' he shouted again.

"We don't care,' the lead man said. "You are on our land and that comes at a cost."

Joe decided to make his move. He pulled his gun and shot two of the men. He was shot in return. Clark dodged out of the way and swung his leg, cutting the leader down at the knees. He tackled another man, driving him into the last. He hit them hard and knocked them out quickly. He was moving back towards the leader to take care of him, when Joe leaned out of the truck and shot the man in the head.

Clark screamed in frustration, but Joe was holding the gun on him.

"Get in and drive,' he said, never taking the gun of him. Clark glanced around at the blood and death all around him. Everywhere he went death seemed to follow. There was no escaping it, not even here at the end of the world.

"Hurry up, or do you want to join them,' Joe rasped. He had taken a shot to the gut and was losing blood. He needed Clark to drive if he was going to survive. "Get it and drive, damn you!"

In resignation, Clark climbed into the truck. Joe leaned against the passenger door and held the gun on him.

"Drive."

Clark started the motor and shifted into gear. They started forward moving passed the still burning remains of Bob and Phil's truck. Joe's breathing was very shallow and he was losing lots of blood. Clark knew he wouldn't make it.

* * *

><p>Two days later<p>

Clark pulled back into Jalalabad Airport. People came from everywhere to see him. They were shocked he was back. They had all heard what the assignment was and knew what the chances were. As he climbed out of the truck, clapping started. Slowly it began to build until it was deafening. Clark never acknowledge, instead he headed straight for the liaison's office. He pushed open the door and the secretaries tried to tell him the liaison was busy but he didn't speak or stop.

As he kicked open the door, the liaison was already on the phone calling for security. Clark snatched him up by the collar and dragged him over the desk.

"I'll have you arrest!"

Clark drew back his fist and hit the man with all his strength. The liaison's nose shatters and blood poured out. Clark let him slip from his fingers and fall to the floor.

"Men died because of your pitiful power games,' Clark whispered. "Three of them were your own workers, but you didn't care. You're just a little man drunk on the tiny bit of power he has. You sent four men to die, for what? Spite? I'm going to make sure you are held accountable."

"I was just doing my job! You can't prove anything,' the liaison shouted. "No one will believe you."

"You're probably right, but that isn't going to stop me,' Clark replied.

The liaison had scrambled back behind his desk as blood poured from his nose.

"You?" He said. "You're nobody, while I'm a respected middle manager of a multinational corporation! Who do you really think they'll believe?"

Clark didn't say anything and the liaison took this as recognition that he was right. He felt some sense of his power coming back so he pressed on.

"Those others are on your head, Horse. You were the one I sent out there to die, they were just collateral damage. It happens all the time in a war zone. It's just the cost of doing business."

Clark waited for a moment and then turned towards the outer office.

"Did you get all that,' he asked. A young man with a press badge stepped into the office and turned off his cell phone video recorder.

"Every word."

"Good, make sure you use it.' Clark said and then walked out of the office. The liaison started trying to explain, but the young reporter was already sending the video back to his editor. The last sound Clark heard as he slammed the door shut was the liaison crying as he pleaded for his job.


	7. Chapter 7

Soul on Fire

Phuket, Thailand – 3 months later

The French doors that looked out towards the water offset the white washed walls of the room at Le Chabanais. A ceiling fan moved the dense, hot air but failed to cool the room. A record player from another time sat on the dresser. Edith Piaf's version of _La Vie en Rose_ was just finishing. The needle reached the end and the arm snapped up and back as the next record slipped down the central post. The needle hovered for a moment and then dropped down to the outer edge of the record. The crackle and hiss of vinyl began.

The large king sized bed momentarily stopped moving. Mosquito netting as thin as silk draped down from above, surrounding the man and woman. A playful, hungry smile was on her lips, as her hazel eyes looked up into his blue ones. His lips were open baring his white teeth, as he panted for air. They were both slick with sweat. Drops fell from his brow, touching her throat and mixing with her own. She expertly rolled her hips just slightly, bringing a groan from deep in his throat. He didn't blink, just held her gaze.

With one powerful hand he tenderly brushed some of her damp locks from her forehead, his fingertips skimming down her rounded cheek. She seemed to tremble under his touch. Her full, quivering lips seemed so inviting, so tempting, he couldn't resist. As he leaned down towards them, she turned her head at the last moment. No kissing, house rules, her rules. The temptation was there though. It would be so easy to break the rules with this one, she thought, so easy to give in to the emotions, the need she rarely felt with any of the others.

He paused just a moment as if the reality of the situation had returned to him and then lowered his mouth to the side of her slender neck bringing a moan from her forbidden lips. Her slender fingers stroked his thick, dark hair, as she shifted her head, giving him more access to her neck and shoulder. He took it. As LaVern Baker's Soul On fire started, they began to move again.

_Well I could play with Tom, Dick, and Harry  
>but for me you're the only one<br>Who makes me shiver,  
>makes me tingle,<br>and who brings my loving down._

The bed springs groaned as their bodies worked in unison. The contrast of their skin was striking. Hers a natural, almost warm copper, while his a deep golden brown from hours in the sun. Both were gasping for air, breathless as they moved in a timeless rhythm. Neither spoke, as that was part of their unwritten agreement. Her skin was warm and slick, a torrent building inside of her. Temptingly she ran her soft, smooth, slender calf up the side of his body and then hooked it around his back, intertwining it with her other. She pressing her body up to his, holding his broad shoulders with all her strength.

_I played the love game before I met him  
>It's a game I've always won<br>but now you set my soul on fire and I really had my fun_

Yes, he was handsome, she thought, but then so many others were as well. She groaned as his mouth kissed a trail down from her lithe shoulder along her collarbone. Hands skimmed along her flanks. His head dipped, tongue tracing a warm sensual path down, causing pleasure to rippled over her as he teased her right piercing. Her already engorged nipple throbbed as he brought his lips to bear. Her back arched, wanting more. As he continued, she felt the rush building inside of her. It was the need, she absently thought, that overwhelming need that he seemed to harbor. Only during sex did he let it out, revealing his true self to only her.

_With other boyfriends, the good-time men friends  
>I still had to walk this road all by myself<br>I was their play girl, a careless gay girl  
>but I put them all on the shelf<em>

As she moaned and moved against him, her scattered thoughts seemed to find a focus on this man. They all had the need, but his felt different. It wasn't the need for just sex or lust or even control, but a deep ravenous need for some physical connection even if it was of the most fleeting kind. It was beyond words, much too basic for that. As a slight whimper of pleasure escaped her lips, she thought of the first time. He wasn't like the rest. He didn't want to tell her his sad story or how nobody understood him. He didn't want to regale her with his latest business triumph or try to impress her with clumsy words of flattery. He simply wanted her.

In turn he didn't seem to need the usual games, the flirtation, the coy practiced innocence, the subtle manipulation that she had perfected long ago. She didn't have to stroke his ego, telling him he was the best she ever had. She didn't have to worry about his mood or temper, watching always for signs of him turning violent. He seemed to have no interested in any of that.

The moment, that's what it was, she told herself after the first time. When they were together, he had no past, no future, nothing but the moment at hand. His focus was on her and perhaps extended to the room, but she doubted this. Her body and their connection was his whole world when they were together. She realized how infinitely dangerous to everything he was; yet she never turned him away.

_I found my true love with you forever  
>and my life has just begun<br>cause now you set my soul on fire  
>and I really had my fun<em>

With a moan, she bit into his neck, feeling the passion and pleasure continuing to build. Her control slipped just a bit but it felt so good. Why shouldn't she enjoy this, she thought? He'd paid handsomely without complain or negotiation. She ground her hips up tighter, working him deeper inside, heightening the pleasure for both. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hands caress her twin piercings, his lips tug on her earlobe. He teased the two gold rings, causing her peaks to engorge even more. They were so hard and it felt so intoxicating. Yes, she would let herself enjoy this. She would stay in the moment just as he was.

It was just business, but there was no rule that said she couldn't enjoy it. How many times had she struggled just to get through it, to make the customer finish so he would leave? With this one she could let it feel like it was more than what it was, more than just a business transaction. It would be an illusion, she knew, but it was a pretty illusion. So as the passion and desire intensified, their bodies worked in unison, she let herself enjoy the illusion if only for a little while with this one. A sultry smile played around her lips as she stroked his face, encouraging him to take them both to greater heights.

_Good bye to play boys  
>those hey hey hey boys<br>good bye to everyone but you my love  
>no more heart aches no more heart breaks<br>I swear by all the stars above,  
>well on my soul, my love, my heart<br>I'll miss you darling from now on  
>Cause now you set my soul on fire and I really had my fun<em>

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana rolled over with a groan. Washington in summer, she still wasn't used to it. While she was pretty impervious to the heat, the humidity was another thing. Even a Princess of Themyscira created by her Gods sweat just like everyone else in the city. She felt sticky and her hair was limp. She didn't like it.

Wrapping the sheet around she glumly sat on up and shifted her feet to the floor. Tom's apartment was a sauna and the little fan in the window wasn't helping at all. He pulled down a decent buck, she thought, he could afford air conditioning. What was he neo-Amish or something, she wondered?

Brushing some of her limp curls from her face, she looked around the bedroom. Tom wasn't there. They had been dating for a little over a year and between their schedules, getting to spend a whole night together was a rare thing. Perhaps I've gotten soft in the years I've been in the Man's world she considered. Themyscira didn't have air conditioning and it never bothered anyone there. Of course there was always a cool breeze coming off the water that seemed to keep the temperature at a comfortable level, too.

Hera, I'm already sweating and I just got up, she groaned. Dragging herself from the bed, Diana made it into the bathroom and started the shower. She stepped under the water and a smile came to her lips. Better, she thought. As she washed away the sticky feeling, her mind went to her current situation. She had spent the night with a man. The very thought would have been unthinkable back when she first arrived.

It wasn't common knowledge even with many of her teammates, but Diana hadn't been a virgin for some time now. It mostly had to do with wanting some privacy in a world that seemed to want to know everything about someone as famous as her. Perhaps some of it had to do with how she was raised. Being in a royal family meant you always had to think of your image and the message you were sending. Other female teammates could have a wild night on the town and it probably wouldn't be splashed all over the papers. Of course that didn't included Zatanna, but she didn't seem to mind anyway.

Now that she was a little older Diana had learned the value of discretion. A life away from the spotlight was precious and she guarded it fiercely. Guarded, that was a good word for Diana when it came to her private life. Having sex for the first time had been a difficult and long decision that she didn't take lightly. It wasn't just her Mother and sisters' experiences, but her own out here. Diana knew the idea of sleeping with Wonder Woman was a fantasy that many men had. They didn't even see the woman behind the uniform. Wonder Woman was a trophy for them, a sex symbol, and an icon, almost a thing to trumpet to the world they had slept with. This made her suspicious of most men she met and many women too.

She waited until she was sure the person she gave herself to wanted to be with her, Diana, not the icon or sex symbol. She smiled as she remembered how nervous and scared she was that first time. It certainly hadn't been a roaring success by any means, but with time, she grew more comfort and was able to relax. She found she liked sex, but would hardly call herself an expert at it. She imagined she was rather conservative by most standards.

She had only slept with three men in all these years, with Tom being the latest. Even with them it wasn't that often. Because of her gifts it presented unique challenges to even the most willing men. She never lost herself in the moment like the romance novels talk of, but she did take pleasure and enjoyment from it. She had to remain always in control, but that seemed like a small thing compared to the upside.

As she turned off the shower and stepped out, she saw the mirror had steamed over. Taking her hand, she wiped a swath of it off and looked at her reflection. I don't look any different now that I'm not a virgin, Diana thought. Sex hadn't changed her; it just added a little enjoyment to her life. She watched herself cringed as she remembered telling her Mother about it. Diana never wanted to go through that again. Here she was an adult, a hero, an Ambassador with a full life and career, but even the memory of when she told her mother still made her squirm.

Stepping way from the mirror, she pushed those thoughts away and dried her hair and body. As she stepped out of the bathroom her hair was still a little damp, but given the weather she would just have to make do.

"Tom?"

She called out his name, but got no reply. She only had the evening dress she came in, so she tried one of Tom's shirts. She frowned as she realized it was too tight and too short. With nothing else to wear, she wrapped the sheet around herself like a toga and ventured out into the apartment. She had been here before so she knew the general layout. It was a little too overtly masculine for her tastes, but she hadn't made an issue of it. Why he still displayed trophies he won in high school was beyond her.

The smell of coffee stopped this line of thought and she headed for the kitchen. She smiled as she saw the fresh pot and the morning newspaper waiting for her. There was a note from Tom saying he went out to pick up some breakfast for them and would be back. As she poured a cup of coffee and carried it over to the table she was glad he was taking care of food.

She had learned the basics of cooking in the years she was here, but that didn't mean she liked doing it. It seemed pointless, really, the Embassy had a whole staff in the kitchen and the Watchtower had one as well. If she wasn't at either of them, she was mostly likely at an Embassy function, state dinner or home, where there was a staff of people for just that purpose. Tom had called her spoiled once, just once. She sat him down and explained that she was providing people with gainful employment. Also if one can appreciate someone else's superior talent, they should enjoy it, not try and fight it. This sounded like a huge rationalization, she knew, but the look she gave him made sure he never mentioned it again.

Opening the paper, Diana skimmed through the local and national news. A full briefing on any pertinent issues would be waiting for her at the Embassy later. She read the editorials, agreeing with one and disagreeing with the others. Diana spent five minutes looking at the business and technology section, liking to stay on top of the latest trends and innovations. When she reached the international news, she took her time. The world was a big place and there was no telling where the next crisis might originate.

It was just a small article, barely five paragraphs, but suddenly Diana's attention was captured. It was about the conviction of the company liaison on charges of manslaughter. A sense of satisfaction came over her at this news. She had been following the story since she first heard about it. The more details she learned the angrier she got. There was also a name involved that always got her attention, Kal.

She had her own sources through the Embassy with most government organizations. She discretely inquired about what had happened to him. She was told he stayed long enough to see the liaison brought up on charges, collect his money, plus a bonus from the corporation and then he disappeared. No one seemed to know where he was now. It still bothered her even after all this time. Maybe it was because she knew all of the details behind it that she wanted to help him. When she had first arrived in the Man's world he had been one of the first to welcome her and help her make her way. She knew she owed him for that, but it was something more.

She just wanted to see him, to talk to him at least once.

The look in his eyes the time she had gone to see him in Metropolis still haunted her. It was frustrating for her that there was nothing she could do. She wanted to help, still did, but he'd disappeared.

As these thoughts rolled around in her mind, the front door opened. Tom came in carrying a bag of bagels from the bakery. He called her name but she didn't answer. He found her sitting in the kitchen staring at the paper intently. She was as breathtaking as the first moment he'd seen her. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek and had to scramble back as she jumped.

"Oh! Oh, Tom, I'm sorry, you surprised me,' Diana said.

"I guess,' he replied. "I got bagels."

"What? Oh, yes, bagels, fine."

He could tell she was distracted it wasn't really that hard. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across from her.

"So what's so fascinating you in the paper?'

She showed him the article. He took his time and read it, then sat back.

"Kent, it's about him isn't it,' Tom asked.

"Well, yes, but I met this man, this liaison when we were over there,' Diana explained. "It's just so hard to imagine he would do something like that. I didn't like him, but I never thought he was evil."

"There's lots of evil people in the world, Diana, we both know that,' Tom replied. "You never get so distracted over those stories, just this one. The story Kent is involved in."

"He's my friend, Tom."

"Yes and he was Superman, the whole world knows that. They just don't know he's still alive.'

"And your point?" Diana asked.

"You don't see the guy for ten year. You thought he was dead, but now that you know he's alive you follow any bit of news like some kind of fan,' Tom said. "What's with you two, Diana?"

Diana felt her anger rising. They'd had this argument before. Even before she found out Kal was alive; he was a touchy subject with Tom.

"We've been over this, Tom, I want to help him, that's all.' Diana patiently told him. "He lost his wife and child, everything and then this happens. Why is that so hard for you to accept that I would want to help a friend, one who helped me?"

"I do understand it, Diana, I do,' Tom replied. He got out of his seat and slowly began to pace back and forth across the kitchen floor. "My heart goes out to him too, it does, but I keep having the feeling there's more to this then you're saying. Are you in love with him, Diana?"

"Wh-What?" Diana stammered, completely caught off guard by the question.

"It's a simple question."

"Is that what this is about?' She asked. "You think I'm in love with him?"

"You still haven't answered the question."

"Because it's asinine. No, I'm not in love with Kal, Tom. As you said, I've barely seen him in ten years, I thought he was dead."

"Then why all this?"

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you? I don't know what's going on with you, Tom, but I think I'll skip breakfast."

Diana rose out of her seat and stormed out of the kitchen. Tom stood for a moment, just looking at the swinging door she'd just exited by. He knew he'd made a mistake, a big one. He was jealous of a phantom, a ghost from her past and stupidly accused her. I'm an ass, he thought, but there was still a part of him that wondered. In the old days he had met Superman once and had been in awe of him. It was bad enough he had to compete with all the other men in her life, Batman, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and the whole damned male Justice League but a ghost was different. You can't fight a ghost.

* * *

><p>Phuket, Thailand<p>

Clark poured some water from the pitcher into the basin. He dipped his hands in and splashed it up against his face. As he looked up, he saw his reflection. It was over and the emptiness came rushing back. The pain and sorrow he'd been living with had burned their way through him, leaving nothing behind. He felt empty, hollow, dead inside.

After Jalalabad, he waited just long enough to see the liaison arrested on charges. The company offered a generous sum, above and beyond the 200 grand to disappear. He took it, but gave most of it to the local relief agencies. It was blood money, but at least it might do some good.

He hopped the first plane out, not really caring where it was going. On the plane were some G.I.s and a few of his coworkers. They were off for some R&R and in high spirits. They all congratulated him, but he tried to downplay his role. He didn't want their praise, men were dead, and he'd just survived is all. The planed landed in Phuket and they insisted he have a drink with them. He tried to decline, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. He needed a drink, so finally agreed. That was the first time he set foot in Le Chabanais.

Prostitution is technically illegal in Thailand, but not so you'd notice. Le Chabanais sat just off the main tourist routes, but it was easy to find. It was the first time in his life that Clark had been in a brothel. He felt out of place and ill at ease. He went to the bar for the one drink with the others, but declined all the girls that came over. He was just about to leave when he met Julian Grinka, the owner. He was dressed in an open collared white shirt and white suit. He had that rare look about him, so you weren't sure if he was fifty or ninety. He had been watching Clark the whole time since he'd walked in the door. He opened the bottle of champagne and wanted Clark to join him. Clark declined.

"To say no to champagne is to say no to life,' Julian replied.

Clark stayed and had some champagne.

Apparently Julian had arrived here after South Vietnam fell and set up shop. There was something about him Clark immediately didn't like, but he did have a certain charm and intelligence. He never asked any questions of Clark, but somehow seemed to keep coming back to that theme of saying no to life. It brought back memories for Clark. Everyone in his life was dead. He'd never had a chance to say no to life, death made the decision for him.

That was when the emptiness started. It had been almost a year now and if anything death had isolated him even more. As Julian's words slithered into his brain, Clark was suddenly desperate for any human connection. As if by some silent signal from Julian, she was standing next to Clark in that moment. She was lovely, heartbreakingly so. Julian introduced her as Suzette. Clark knew this wasn't her real name, but somehow it fit her. She looked at him with those hazel eyes and didn't say a word, just took his hand and led him away from the bar.

He followed.

For the next three hours the world slipped away. His mind thought of nothing, not the heartache, the pain, the sorrow, nothing but the moment.

Afterwards, he felt as he felt now, looking at himself in the mirror, guilty, shamed and embarrassed. Guilt that it had only been a year, barely a year since Lois had died. Shamed that's he'd slept with another woman and enjoyed it. Embarrassed because he knew he would be back.

After the first time he had sworn to himself he would never do it again. He resisted going back, but the emptiness was unrelenting. He knew he was just a client, a customer, and that it was all an illusion, but he desperately needed that illusion right now. He needed something to feel alive again. It was a fleeting thing, but it was better than the emptiness.

* * *

><p>She lay on the bed feeling wonderful. It had been a marvelous time as always. As she shifted to look at him, she saw the look come over his features. Guilt and sadness they always came back to him, she thought. Perhaps that was what made him so much more attractive then the others. He was a wounded soul. He was probably a good man, she thought, but something had damaged him beyond repair. Again she felt the need to know, but remembered that wasn't part of deal. She knew that first night that he would not speak of himself or his past. It was still too fresh and painful. That tantalized her and she wanted even more to find out about him, but she resisted the urge. He would leave and never come back if she did.<p>

She didn't want that. She liked her time with him and had actually come to look forward to it. This handsome broken man was hers for the time they shared and no one else's. She had heard the other girls talking about him. They saw what she saw. Each time he visited, they tried to lure him away, but he always came back to her. She liked that too.

She watched him, as he ran his strong fingers trough his thick hair. The beard and mustache he'd first arrived with were gone and it was a beautiful face. A beautiful sad face, she thought. He sat back down on the bed after pulling on his worn shorts. As he started to put on his boots, she moved closer, running her fingers over down his spine. She could feel the muscles just below the surface of his deeply tanned skin. She leaned forward and lightly kissed along his shoulder blade, then moved up and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. She looked at him from the side, smiling as she thought how handsome he was.

He looked at her and gave a small smile. Leaning forward he picked up his shirt. He was soaked with sweat and as he rose to put it on, she got off the bed and reached into the nightstand.

"Here, you left this one the last time,' she said, holding it out to him. "I had it washed.'

He took the shirt from her slender hands and looked at it for a moment. His eyes moved to hers.

"Thank you."

She was standing next to him, tiny in comparison. As she looked up into the sad eyes, the temptation was too great. She broke her rule. She stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed his lips.

"Until next time."


	8. Chapter 8

The Human Touch

"_**The screen door slams**  
><strong>Mary's dress waves<strong>  
><strong>Like a vision she dances across the porch<strong>  
><strong>As the radio plays<strong>  
><strong>Roy Orbison singing for the lonely<strong>  
><strong>Hey that's me and I want you only<strong>  
><strong>Don't turn me home again<strong>  
><strong>I just can't face myself alone again<strong>"_

Phuket, Thailand

Clark woke from the dream bathed in sweat. He looked wildly around, not sure for a moment were he was. Slowly the white plaster walls came into focus. He was in the hotel. The rest came rushing back and the emptiness returned.

He'd been having the same dream for a week. Clark didn't even remember where he last heard Springsteen's Thunder Road, but somehow the imagery seemed to get jumbled up in his dream. As he sat on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees he could still remember fleeting images. It had to be morning, but he wasn't sure where it was. He heard the sound of a screen door and turned to see a house shimmering in the sunlight. From somewhere the old radio was playing.

There was a woman wearing a gingham dress standing on the top step. She looked lovely, but most of her face was in the shadows. Only her smile was clear to him. Something about her started an overwhelming need within him. He wanted to touch her just to make sure she was real, yet he was afraid she was just another illusion. One step and then another and he was moving closer. A soft breeze brushed against the material of her dress and her slender hands absently smoothed away the wrinkles. He was running now, desperate to reach her. He was almost to the porch and then something caught his foot. He stumbled and fell. As he looked back to see what he'd fallen over, he saw it was a shovel. No, he cried, not like this.

When he looks up the scene has transformed and he's in front of his old house in the suburbs watching it burn. It was at that point he always woke up. Clark ran his hands through his damp hair and wondered if he was finally going mad. He sat there on the side of the bed as the dream drifted away from him, the images fading fast. It was gone and the emptiness came rushing back. Like a zombie, he got off the bed and went to take a shower. It was the beginning of another day.

Twenty minutes later he was dressed and walking out of his hotel. The tropical sun beats down and the humidity was stifling. He was restless and kept moving. He needed a drink but skipped the usual places. He'd been to them too often lately and now the bartenders and regulars felt as if they knew him. They would want to talk. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He wanted to be anonymous and drink alone.

He avoided the popular spots, knowing tourists would be there. They would want to talk too. He already knew the questions.

"_So you're an American? Where you from? Business or Pleasure? What brings you to this neck of the wood? What line of work are you in?"_

It was usually just a pretext to tell their story. Someone's life, work, family, where he or she was from and all the rest would follow. He couldn't do that anymore. The urge to see her at Le Chabanais was there, but he resisted it. It was as if he were punishing himself, waiting until the need got too great and he couldn't resist any longer.

He felt a rush go through his body at the thought. It was sweet torture, but it helped keep the emptiness at bay for just a little while longer. He continued walking. Clark ignored the looks he seemed to always get. He was a big man and stood out where ever he went, but especially here. He didn't make eye contact, just kept his head down and continued on.

The Togo Island Bar was just off the beach and had seen better days. The huge, modern hotels had moved in and the crowds flocked there now. As Clark stepped over the threshold, he felt the ceilings fans circulating the air. The bar was dark and empty, perfect. He ordered a drink, paid and walked to a table on the patio. He sat down and looked out over the water.

"You always drink alone."

Clark turned to see Julian Grinka standing next to him. The older Frenchman was dressed all in white as always. He was carrying one of the cheap bamboo fans they sell to tourists. He smiled at Clark and sat down without being asked. He took off his hat and dropped it on the table. He slowly began to fan himself.

"We haven't seen you in quite awhile,' the owner of le Chabanais said. 'Suzette misses you."

"I've been busy."

"If you say so." Julian smiled and then motioned to the lone waiter. Clark said nothing. The waiter brought a bottle of Absinthe, a pitcher of ice water and two glasses. He set them down and quietly disappeared.

"Have a drink with me," Julian said, pouring two glasses of the pale green liquor. "We will talk and drink the two of us."

"I don't feel like talking,' Clark replied.

"Then I will talk and we will drink."

Clark could see he wasn't going to get rid of him, so he finished his own drink and set the glass aside. He watched as Julian poured just a bit of ice water into the two glasses, turning the liquid slightly cloudy. He pushed one of the glasses towards Clark.

"Absinthe?"

"It reminds me of my youth,' Julian offered.

"I supposed to refuse it to refuse life,' Clark sarcastically said, eyeing the mixture.

"No, that's champagne."

Julian took a sip and sat back smiling, as if it reminds him off some far of world. Clark idly swirled the mixture around in the glass. Grinka watched Clark weighting how to proceed. He could plainly see the sadness in Clark. It was one of Julian's specialties. He's been making a living off sad people for most of his life. Drugs, prostitutes, there were a million ways to do it. It took no real skill, as customers for those products were a dime a dozen. What was rare was Clark. Julian had spotted it the first night he walked in. A broken good man was not something you run across everyday. Other, more exotic ways of making money were a possibility with a good broken man.

"I prefer to buy you a drink here. You are not good for my bar's business,' Julian observed as Clark took his first taste of the absinthe. Clark made a face, as the absinthe had an anise taste, almost like black liquorice. It wasn't bad, he thought.

"Why am I bad for your business?"

"You make the girls sad,' Julian replied. "No one likes a sad whore."

Julian smiled as he saw him wince at the word. Clark took another drink of the absinthe and then looked at Julian.

"Are you trying to tell me not to come back?'

"No, of course not, your business is always welcome,' Julian replied, waving it off with his fan. "It was just an observation, that's all."

"If you're trying to embarrass me, don't bother,' Clark said. "I know what she is. It's a brothel, I get it."

Julian just continued to smile. He had been trying to embarrass Clark, to prod him for a reaction. He got one.

"If you are going to be offended, we won't have much of a conversation," Julian offered.

"There are worse things." Clark said this off hand, taking another drink of the absinthe.

"Yes and I'm sure you've seen more than your share,' Julian replied. Clark's eyes instantly looked at him, but he didn't say a word.

"Oh, don't seem so surprised,' Julian continued. "It's my business to know people and I've been watching you since that first night."

"Yes, I know."

It was Julian's turn to be surprised.

"You knew and yet you said nothing? It doesn't bother you?"

"I'm sort of used to people looking at me," Clark replied. He finished his glass and set it down. Before he could get up and leave, Julian had filled it again. He raised his glass to Clark as if in a toast and finished it, then poured himself another. They sat silently for several minutes.

"Suzette is most beautiful,' Julian finally said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, she is."

"My best girl, but I take a great risk letting her be with you."

"How so,' Clark asked.

"You are the type of man a woman falls for,' Julian explained. "Even a whore."

"I think you're overestimating me,' Clark replied, dismissing the notion.

"Perhaps, but I think not,' Julian countered. "You are a good man. I am not, but I can always spot one. Yes, you are a good man with a dark past. You are haunted, damaged and this is almost irresistible. They want to fix you, share your pain, and make it better. Tall, dark and handsome, yet damaged, that is a combination that can lead to disaster for someone in my line of work."

Clark set his glass down and leaned his elbows on the table. He looked Julian in the eye.

"Then why risk it? If you're so sure about me, why not just ban me from coming back?" Clark asked.

"Because I'm a gambler,' Julian replied. "While you are a good man and I'm a bad man, underneath we are not that different."

"I doubt that."

"Yes, I imagine you would,' Julian conceded. "But I too have known the emptiness of living, as I think you have. To know the sheer mind numbingness of ordinary everyday life is our curse. One day just like the next stretching out endlessly before us. It is the source of our shared ennui. "

Clark didn't say anything, but he was a little rattled. The Frenchman had just hit a little too close for comfort. He took another drink before replying.

"You seemed to be surviving."

"True, but then I am a bad man, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

The tone in Clark's voice was sarcastic to say the least. Julian wasn't offended. He was working towards something and wouldn't be put off that easily.

"Suzette makes it go away, doesn't she?"

"Yes,' Clark replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's what makes her special,' Julian replied. "She reminds you of what life can feel like, what it should feel like, even if it is only for a fleeting moment."

Clark wasn't sure what to say. Julian had just described the very reason he couldn't stay away from her. To feel alive again, to connect with another human being was like a drug to his system. He craved it, yet hated that he did.

"So I guess you'll be getting more of my money,' Clark whispered and then downed the rest of his glass. Julian's smile got cold; as this was the moment he was waiting for.

"Perhaps, perhaps not,' he replied. "What if there was another way to have that feeling of being alive? I know it wouldn't matter to you, but there might be money in it as well. Enough money so you wouldn't have to pay in the future."

Clark looked at him for a moment. He'd known since the moment he sat down that Julian wanted something. Now he was about to find out what. He had to admit, he was interested, intrigued even by what he was suggesting. Finally Clark reached for the bottle and poured them both another drink.

"You talk, I'll drink."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana and the entire staff of the Embassy slowly walked up the front steps. They were all in black, as they had just come from a funeral. One of their own had taken her life. Diana knew she was a troubled young woman, but wanted to help so she hired her. The staff took an instant liking to the girl, especially the Amazons that helped run the place. The news of her death hit all of them hard, but in particular Diana.

She had kept track of the young woman, making sure she had access to all best medical help she could. Diana personally made the effort to talk to her, keep up on how she was doing. Everything seemed fine the last time they talked. Now she was dead.

As the staff started back towards their work areas, Diana stopped all of them in the main lobby. She told them all to take the rest of the day off and go home. Some protested, but no one's heart was really in it. Diana's assistants offered to stay and help her, but she just smiled sadly and told them to go.

A half hour later, Diana was alone in the Embassy. She walked around, checking every room and locked up for the night. She would let the service handle all the calls; there would be time for all that tomorrow. When she was finished, she walked back to her office and sat down behind her desk. Proposals, invitations, outlines of projects and a million other things were neatly arranged on the top, but as Diana sat there she found herself thinking of the last time she had spoken to the young woman.

They had discussed how she was doing and she seemed calm, almost as if she'd come to some decision. She sat relaxed, talking about the future, yet now as Diana thought back on it there were never any specifics. Later that night that sad, sweet young woman had gone home, filled the tub with water and slit her wrists. A neighbor called the police the next day.

Diana spoke to all the counselors and experts and they all said the same thing. Don't blame yourself. Diana thanked them, but how could she not? The young woman must have given some signs, but Diana missed them. Yes, so did the experts, but that was little comfort. Tears rolled down Diana's cheeks as she mourned the young woman. She couldn't save her. She was Wonder Woman and helped save lives everyday, but she couldn't save one troubled young woman she cared about.

Tom was out of town, but it probably didn't matter. He wouldn't understand. It was the same reason she wanted to help Kal. If she couldn't help those close to her then what did it all mean? Was she just a warrior after all this time and that was it? Was it just as Kal had said, all a game? She could fight villains and Gods, but there had to be more. 13 years had passed and there had to be more. Compassion, love, empathy, nurturing and caring, these were all supposed to be gifts she received from her Gods, yet she barely used them any more. A young woman was dead and she hadn't been able to reach her.

Wiping her eyes, Diana felt as if she were at a crossroads. There had to be more to life than just battle.

Lately she'd taken more mission of a humanitarian nature with the League. It reminded her of when she first arrived in the world. Fighting global threat from aliens races and super villains still had its place, but after 13 years some of the luster was gone. She saw it in the eyes of the newest members of the League, that excitement and newness of it all. They were just like she had been, wanting to change the world.

Experience and life had finally brought home a lesson she'd always known. Hearts not fists would change the world. Let the new, younger members face the challenges now, she thought. She would always be there to assist, but her focus would be on a quieter battle. While it wasn't part of her beliefs, Diana understood the concept of karma. What you put out into the world comes back at you ten fold.

She had not been able to save the young woman, but perhaps she could help save someone else. If she could help one person, then perhaps it was the start of something. A long future stretched out in front of her and it had to have meaning beyond just battle. Otherwise it wasn't a life worth living.

* * *

><p>Phuket, Thailand<p>

The hall officially had no name, but the locals called it Blood Alley. The officials turned a blind eye to what went on inside, for a price. Fights of all kinds took place in the hall, dog, rooster and the most profitable, men. It wasn't boxing or MMA, it was much more basic and brutal then either. Two men entered the ring and didn't leave until one couldn't. Five minute rounds were broken by thirty second breaks for water or what little damage control could be done. There were no tap outs or TKOs, just knockouts, any way the fighter could manage it.

The hall probably seated two thousand, but nearly double that number crammed their way inside. The building was sweltering, the smell of humanity mixed with stale beer, sweat and sawdust. Money was everywhere. You could bet on anything, which would win, how long it would take, even whether someone would die. The crowd was deafening as the next match was announced. In one corner was a young Philipino named Chong Di. He was barely five six and a hundred and thirty pounds, but it was all raw, sinewy muscle. It wasn't his first fight and he had a reputation for brutal matches. The crowd loved him.

In the other corner was Clark. This was a mistake, he thought as he looked around at the ravenous crowd. Julian's words had tantalized him into this. When he heard himself being introduced as Pale Horse, he cringed. That damn nickname had followed him here. It was a mistake, he told himself, but even as he thought this, his heart was pumping, his nerves were on edge and adrenaline was coursing through his system. His body was on tense and keyed up.

From all physical appearances, the fight seemed like a mismatch. Clark looked huge, massive in size compared to the other man. There were no weight classes here, just two men. Clark glanced at the front row and saw Julian sitting dead center. Next to him was Suzette. She smiled and waved, clapping her hands in encouragement. He felt ridiculous and was just about to call the whole thing off and climb out of the ring when the bell rang.

Chong Di was on him immediately. He kicked savagely at Clark's knee. It buckled and he fell against the ropes. A normal man leg's would have had all the ligaments torn from the blow. Clark had lost his powers, but his body was still Kryptonian. That meant he could take an astonishing amount of punishment. He learned this lesson well in the first five rounds. He basically had his ass handed to him by the smaller man.

As the bell sounded for the sixth round, Clark was bruised, bloody and a bit disoriented. The noise was deafening. The crowd screamed for the little man to finish him. Clark moved cautiously away from the corner, feeling clumsy and awkward as the little man moved constantly. He was lightening fast, striking hard and then moving away, again and again.

It had been a long time since Clark had even sparred with anyone, never mind an actual fight. He realized Chong Di wasn't just trying to beat him; he was trying to destroy him in the process. Savage kicks continued to rain at his knee, sending agony through his system. A flying, spinning kick just missed Clark's chin or it would have taken his head off. Vicious kidney punches made him groan in pain, but he didn't fall. Money passed back and forth in the crowd, the frenzy of betting getting more intense as the fight continued.

The world seemed to slip away for Clark and only the man in front of him remained. He watched every move, every attack. He managed to block a few, but most got through. He tried jabbing, but the little man was too quick. Clark's punches were too slow and too long. This made him an easy target for a counterpunch. A kick to the back of the head sent him falling into the ropes. As he struggled to stay on his feet, more kicks and punches came, each one hard and brutal. Finally the bell rang and Clark barely managed to make it back to his corner. Gasping for air, he closed his eyes as water was splashed in his face. Whether if was to clear the blood away or just to wake him up, he didn't know.

This couldn't go on he thought. Through blurry eyes he watched his opponent dancing in opposite corner, smiling and laughing with his helpers. He thinks he's already won, Clark thought. He's overconfident. One mistake, one opening, that's all I need. The bell rang and Chong Di came rushing across the ring to finish him. This time Clark didn't move out to meet him. He just waited. The little man feinted a punch and then leaped in the air for a kick. There it was, Clark thought, his opening.

His right hand shot out with all the force he could put behind it. He caught Chong Di in midair, flush on the jaw. The little man's momentum took him right into it. His head snapped to the side and he dropped the mat. He didn't get up. The fight was over.

As the crowd went wild, Clark gingerly bent down and checked on his opponent. He was breathing and relief washed over Clark that he hadn't killed him. He felt hands on his shoulders and as he got back to his feet, Julian was shouting something at him. Suzette leapt into his arms and kissed him. As he savored it, he finally heard Julian shouting into his ear.

"How do you feel?'

When he finally broke the kiss, Clark answered honestly.

"Alive."

The ring filled with people as a chant went up. Louder and louder it got until the whole place was shaking.

**"HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE!"**


	9. Chapter 9

Requiem: Child Lost

Phuket, Thailand

A wrapped, bloody hand reached for the top rope and missed. It tried again. A wall of sound seemed almost a physical thing in its intensity. The hand caught the top rope this time and slowly began to pull. Legs gone, eyesight blurred, ears ringing, battered and bloody, Clark willed his body to get up. If he could have distinguished any voices over the others he might have heard the shouts to stay down. He barely managed to make it to his feet when his opponent struck. Clark didn't even see it as his head jerked under the powerful blow. His legs gave out again and he was falling. It felt like it was happening in a slow motion dream world. The sound stopped and he could only hear his heartbeat and breathing. The crowd seemed to blur, merge into a series of blobs and shapes. Nothing was in focus.

A child's laugh fluttered around the edges of Clark's mind. A child shouldn't be here, he thought. Clark's hand brushed against one of the ropes, but his fingers weren't working. As he continued to fall, eyes starting to surrender and shut, Clark saw him, Jonathan, his son. He appeared so clear, distinct against all the background. He was smiling at his father. He wanted to call his name, but his bleeding lips didn't seem to work. Love and agony mixed as Clark couldn't pull his eyes away. He continued to fall and as he did he watched in horror as his son turned and started to leave. Clark's bloody hand stretched out towards him, but bounced off the second rope as he fell.

The boy turned and smiled again at his father. Daddy he said, his little voice clear and distinct. Slowly he began to fade as the crowd came back into focus. A scream tore from Clark's heart, but was drowned by the wall of sound. His face then hit the canvass with a sickening thud. Through blurry, tear filled eyes he looked up and Jonathan was gone.

His boy was dead.

Pain came rushing back to Clark; only it wasn't the physical pain that had overwhelmed him a moment ago. It was the pain he'd been keeping locked away all this time. He'd avoided children at every turn. It was too horrible to be near them anymore. Just seeing them reminded him of Jonathan, his boy. Memories of his little body awkwardly lying unnaturally still on the grass in their front yard would come. Those were the lowest moments, where he wasn't sure he wanted or could go on living.

He never thought he could have children, so when he'd first found out it had been the happiest day of his life. It hadn't matter if it was a boy or a girl, just that it was his child. The first time he saw him in the delivery room, his heart broke with joy. He was hopelessly in love from the moment he first held him in his arms and those little blue eyes looked up at him. Suddenly everything he'd given up seemed worth it and a small price to pay.

They named him Jonathan after Clark's adopted father.

He had watched him for hours, enraptured with the littlest things. Jonathan learning to crawl and making his first attempts to stand, laughing, smiling, and seeing his first butterfly and some many others it was too long a list to recite. Clark was seeing the world anew through his son's eyes. He never felt so human or connected to the world as he did when he looked at his child.

Then that horrible day took it all away.

Jonathan would never get to do so many things. He would never stand out at the bottom of the drive nervously waiting for the school bus, while his parents shamelessly snapped pictures to commemorate the occasion. He would never look up into the heavens through a telescope with his father or sit with his mother addressing valentine's cards to all his classmates. There would be no prom, no first kiss, no falling in love for Jonathan. It had all been taken away on that one horrible day.

The sorrow, agony and anger of his son's death seemed to crush Clark as he lay face down on the canvass. He could hear the crowd screaming. He could hear his opponent shifting back and forth like a caged animal just waiting for him to try and get up so he could cause more damage. His opponent seemed to want to drive Clark into the canvass until he never got up again. As the emotions and pain swirled inside of him, Clark didn't want to get up. He wished it had been him that had died that day, not his son. If it had been him that died that day with Lois at least they would have known they had lived a full life with all the experiences that came with it. Life wasn't fair like that.

Clark felt his tears mix with his blood and soak the canvass. He wanted it all to end, so the pain would finally go away. The kick to his ribs from his opponent told him it wouldn't be that easy. The second and third kick drove him into the corner. His opponent cared nothing for Clark's loss. He cared nothing that Clark had lost his child. He felt the man grab his hair and pull his face up off the canvass.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Clark felt the spittle hit his face as the man laughed and smashed him into the canvass. He could barely hear over the din of noise the first calls to stop it, end the fight. One more kick to his ribs came and as Clark groaned and rolled to his side, he saw his opponent raise his hands and laugh in triumph. Jeers and cheers mixed with the continued overwhelming noise of the crowd.

* * *

><p>Washington – Two Week Early<p>

Diana arrived back at the Embassy from a mission overseas. It wasn't a League mission, but a personal mission. She had read an article recently that something as simple as mosquito netting could save thousands from Malaria. She had contacted the charity and asked how she could help. Once she convinced them she actually was who she said she was, they had been full of ideas. Their ideas pretty much involved raising money, which she had been willing to do, but she wanted more than that. Through the Embassy and the Amazon Foundations her people gave away large sums of money all over the world. They had women's shelters, anti-violence campaigns and women's rights groups they supposed in many countries. It was all good work, but most of the time Diana felt more like an administrator than anything.

She discussed this with Tom, but he seemed less than enthusiastic about her ideas. He seemed to think the best use of her time and talents were with fund raising or raising awareness of the issue. He also didn't like the idea of her being out of the country when he had time off and they could be together. He brought up Kal's name again and things went down hill from there.

Diana was getting just a bit tired of his jealousy. She had always been honest and open with Tom, yet he couldn't seem to deal with the simple fact that she had a past. It wasn't just Kal either, but Bruce, Hal and Arthur. He even seemed jealousy of Wally, which Diana almost laughed at. It was fine that he had been with other women, but somehow it wasn't that she had known other men before him. Diana pointed out the double standard, but he countered with his past flames hadn't been superheroes. They had argued all through dinner, until she finally got up and left.

Why was it so hard for him to understand this wasn't about anyone else, but her? It was her life that she was thinking of, her future. She would even admit that hearing that Kal was alive had helped these thoughts to surface, but now she knew they had been there for some time. It wasn't that she was unhappy, but more of a feeling of drifting. She had spent so many years representing her sisters and being Wonder Woman, it felt as if something had been forgotten along the way.

As she landed in Africa, Diana realized she had no clear idea what she was doing here. The thought had been to see things with her own eyes, but as she moved around the villages, she felt like a tourist. She wasn't wearing her uniform and dressed in plain khakis, but she was still recognized. Everyone was friendly and seemed excited to see her. There were pictures taken, but it felt too much like what she always did.

It was in one of the small villages that something changed. She was talking with some of the relief workers. They were saying how it was a struggle to get anything done. The government barely tolerated them. They said they realized even if the netting stopped Malaria, chances were most of the children would end up in the army or fighting with the rebels. Life expectancy was low and the workers said they had given up hoping to change the world long ago. Diana asked why then? Why did they do this if they didn't think they were really changing anything? It was one of the young Peace Corp volunteers that provided the answer. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two, but she had been out here a year. She looked tired and worn out. Her simple statement seemed to resonate with Diana.

"We give then a chance, at least."

Diana walked around the village the rest of the day thinking about this. As she watched the children she knew most probably wouldn't reach 35, her own age. War, famine, disease would take most of them. It wasn't just in this village either, she realized. The problems were so wide spread over this continent and others that the problem seemed insurmountable. All the fund raising dinners and TV commercials in the world weren't going to change the basic facts that had been around for what seemed like forever. She struggled the rest of the night and most of the next day trying to find some answer, but nothing came.

Diana was depressed and feeling a helpless, when she saw the volunteers working on something. She asked what it was and was told it was a makeshift clinic. It was little more than a pole barn, but it would be a central location for those in the area to come. It wasn't progressing very fast. Diana saw one of the beams the workers were trying to put up was slipping so she went over and caught it. She moved it back in place as they tied it off. Over the next several hours she rolled up her sleeves and helped them complete it.

Over the next week she put aside thoughts of fixing the larger problem and just pitched in, helping where she could. She drew water, unloaded trucks, sat with the sick and general helped the workers with the day-to-day work. One week stretched into two and it was finally a message from the Embassy that caused her to return. As she flew back, Diana mulled over her experiences. She knew two weeks barely put a dent in the larger problem, but maybe in some small way she had contributed to giving them a chance.

Perhaps that was what she'd been looking for all this time. Maybe she couldn't change the world to the Amazon way, but perhaps she to do her part to give it a chance. Maybe it was that personal connection she'd been looking for. She was still rolling it over in her mind, not quite sure of everything yet as she arrived back at the Embassy. The staff greeted her with relief and she reassured them she was fine. A quick shower later and she was back at her desk. Work had piled up in her absence and it was almost midnight when she caught up.

As she sat there, here mind drifted back to the village. She had forgotten all the other things and just pitched in. It felt good to work along side the others, just being one of the group. One of the workers had said there was no guarantees the government or rebels wouldn't come and tear down the clinic, but for as long as it lasted they would try and help as many as they could. That was frustrating to her, but she didn't see any alternative.

It was the sound of the glass terrace doors opening that first caught her attention. Burglar alarms were in place but they didn't go off. As she sat there listening she suddenly knew who it was.

"Bruce?"

"I heard you were back."

She turned and he was standing in the shadows.

"Yes,' she replied.

"Sightseeing?" He asked.

"No."

He moved over to her desk and sat down across from her without being asked. He wasn't dressed as Batman, but as Bruce Wayne.

"What brings you here, Bruce?' Diana asked.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, what's going on with you Diana?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've noticed you haven't been on the station much lately,' he replied. "When you are, you seem distant and preoccupied. Now this sudden trip to darkest Africa that wasn't on your schedule and none of your staff knew about. So I'll ask again, what's up with you?"

Of course he would notice she thought, he always noticed everything. In the 13 years she had known Bruce it had almost become second nature to think he knew everything. She long ago realized it wasn't and that it was just his way of controlling his world. Information no matter how smaller or insignificant might one day help him. She also suspected it was his way of caring for those around him. She had never met a more troubled, yet caring man in her life. It was that man that she had once been drawn to long ago. It was the darkness that drove her away.

"So?" He said, waiting for an answer.

She wasn't sure how to explain it to him. She'd tried with others, but they never seemed to understand. Tom didn't understand.

"You've been Batman for 17 years, Bruce,' she began. "Do you ever wonder if that's all there is?"

"It what way?"

His features took a grim tone as he steepled his hands in front of him, sitting deeper into the chair.

"Is it all just a game we're playing? We stop the villains and then they always come back again and again. Is that all the future holds?"

He sat there for a moment without speaking.

"Is this about Clark?" He finally asked.

"Hera, help me,' Diana exclaimed. She got out of her seat and started pacing. "First Tom, now you? Is it so inconceivable that my life has its own problems?"

"You misunderstand me, Diana,' Bruce replied. "I simply meant, I noticed this change in you soon after you found out he was alive. I think seeing him again has effected all of us in some way, even me."

"You?"

"Don't be so surprised,' he said with a small smile. "He's like a ghost from our past. I think seeing him again reminds us all of how much has changed. A lot has happened over the years for all of us. Maybe seeing him reminded us of when we started."

To say Diana was surprised by Bruce's words would be an understatement. She moved back and sat down, just looking at him. He so rarely spoke this openly, especially in the last few years. The darkness, the Batman had become so much of him now. This was a side she didn't think she would see again.

"He made a choice years ago to walk away from all of it,' Bruce continued. "Seeing him again reminded all of us of choices we've made over the years, both good and bad."

"Yes,' Diana admitted, still a little stunned by his words.

"So putting aside your boyfriend for now,' Bruce said. "What is going on with you, Diana?"

She decided to just tell him the simple truth, or at least the part she understood herself.

"I've been in this world for over 13 years now, Bruce. I know we've made a difference, I do, but I find myself wondering if there isn't more. Is it all just a game we're going to repeat forever?"

"Those are Clark's words, Diana,' Bruce pointed out.

"Yes, but I find I don't know the answer,' she admitted.

"I envy you,' Bruce quietly said. "At least you have all the time in the world to find it."

"Immortality is a curse if it has no meaning,' Diana replied.

"Then give it meaning." He flatly stated.

"That's what is up with me, Bruce."

* * *

><p>Phuket, Thailand – One Week Later<p>

Bruce Wayne laughed, playing the playboy billionaire to the hit, as he sat with some of his corporate officers in the luxury hotel lounge. Wayne Enterprises was a global business and while he presented himself as just a figurehead to the world, he took a very active role in how it was run. Small rumors had reached him of possible problems in one of the Far East branches of the corporation. It wasn't much, just a few security lapses and bits of insignificant technology that turned up in his competitor's hands, but he wanted to make sure it wasn't something deeper.

Bruce had other more important matters on his mind, as well. Since his talk with Diana he'd been thinking of his age and the possibility that someday soon he wouldn't be able to don the Batman cape. That was a deeply troubling thought for him, but never one to turn away from the hard truths, his mind had been thinking of solutions.

The easiest was also the hardest to contemplate, letting someone else be the Batman. When he first created Batman it had been with the idea he would be a symbol, a legend. Intellectually he understood that the symbol had to go on even if he wasn't around. The myth of Batman had to be that he was more than just a man. The reality though, was something different. Bruce was Batman. It was so much a part of him, he wasn't sure where he ended and Batman began anymore. He knew it was coming, the moment when he couldn't do it, but he resisted it with all his considerable will power.

Dick was the one, Bruce thought. He's always been the one. When the time comes it should be Dick that takes over. Yet over the years there had been an estrangement between them. Oh, they still spoke, but only when it was related to work. That was one of the mistakes Bruce had been thinking about when he'd talked to Diana. There had been other Robins, each unique and qualified in their own way, but Dick was still the best.

The question was would he take over if Bruce asked him? Had too much happened between them? Was it too late to reconcile? Could Bruce really give it up?

These thoughts had been on his mind all during the flight over here. Once he arrived, Bruce compartmentalized it, as he'd done a million times before. He'd traced the problem to the Thailand division of Wayne Enterprises and wanted to feel out the management team. The easiest way was to be the playboy just dropping in for a weekend. The senior staff had been nervous when they heard he was arriving, but after a few drinks they seemed to relax. He played it to the hilt, drinks, girls, partying, but he kept a keen eye on all of them.

He'd narrowed his focus down to two junior vice presidents. They were young, unmarried and he got the impression they didn't like being here. They put on enthusiastic fronts for him at first, but as the drinks flowed some of their try feelings began to come out. He already made a mental note to quietly remove them from this branch and any access to sensitive material when one of them leaned over to him.

"Are you really interested in seeing something different, Bruce?"

It irritated him that they called him Bruce, but he gave no hint of it. He was their boss, but they so easily seemed to forget it. Bruce made another mental note to not just remove them, but also fire them. If they could make such a fundamental lapse in judgment concerning their boss, there was no doubt they could be compromised. He smiled lazily at the young man.

"Something different? What do you have in mind?"

"There's a specialty in this part of the country that a friend introduced to,' the young vice president said.

"Girls?" Bruce asked. "I don't think they've invented anything here that I haven't tried somewhere along the line."

"No, no, this is different,' the vice president said, taking another big drink. "Fighting, but nothing like you've seen before. There are no rules, just two men fighting until only one is standing. It's like fucking Thunderdome or something!"

"How did you hear about this,' Bruce casually asked. Maybe he could find out who these two were dealing with as well on this trip.

"He's a great guy,' the vice president said. "He knows where to find everything, no matter what or how strange."

"Really? I think I'd like to met him, what's his name,' Bruce asked.

"Julian Grinka."

"Julian, huh? So is he going to be at this fight?"

"Sure,' the vice president replied. "He'll be front row with his best girl, the lovely Suzette."

"Prostitute?"

"Yeah, but she's special, let me tell you. She wouldn't cost too much for you, but I'm just a working stiff." The vice president laughed at this. Bruce smiled thinking not for much longer and not for me. The young vice president leaned in conspiratorially to Bruce.

"The word is she's sweet on one of the fighters. Crazy, huh? A whore falling for a customer."

"So I take it this guy is fighting, that's why she's there?"

"Yeah,' the vice president said with disgust. "Big guy, American, they love him around here. His fights are brutal. He almost seemed to want to take punishment, but he's got the punch, you know? He's got knockout power with both hands. The crowds go wild for his fights."

"And he's fighting tonight?' Bruce asked.

"Yeah."

"So what are we waiting for?"

The vice president smiled and down his drink.

* * *

><p>Blood Alley – Later<p>

A few payoffs here and there later, Bruce and the young vice president were ringside. Bruce was introduced to Julian Grinka and Suzette. He felt like washing his hands after shaking Julian's. Suzette immediately noted the name and turned on the charm. Bruce had to admit she was lovely. Putting down her exact origins was difficult. She seemed a mix of Asian, perhaps Chinese and European. There was something else, but he couldn't quote place it. The combination certainly worked for her. There was a mysterious, sultry look to her features and he could well understand why men would pay handsomely for her services.

"So what brings the handsome and famous Bruce Wayne way out here?' She asked.

"Curiosity,' he replied.

"I was telling him about Horse,' the vice president offered. Suzette glanced at him, but kept her focus on Bruce.

"You are in for a treat, Mr. Wayne,' she said with a smile. "Horse is special."

"Horse? Why Horse?" Bruce asked. It was Julian that replied.

"It's a nickname, Pale Horse,' he explained. 'When you see him fight you will understand."

"Something clicked in Bruce's head. The name sounded very familiar. Before he could remember where exactly he'd heard it before, Julian was talking.

"After the fight, you must come down to the Le Chabanais, Mr. Wayne. We have many things for man tastes."

"Sound interesting."

"Your young friend can show you the way,' Julian said with a cold smile. "He's been there many times."

"I do hope you come, Mr. Wayne,' Suzette whispered, brushing her lips against Bruce's ear. He turned and smiled at the beautiful young woman. She fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly and gave him a sultry smile. Yes, he could certainly understand why she was so popular.

The fight was about to start, so Bruce took his seat. He couldn't see the fighters until they were in the ring, but one glimpse and he knew immediately where he'd heard the name Pale Horse before. He was astonished to find Clark here of all places. The young vice president was saying something, but Bruce didn't care. His focus was on the man in the ring. He was just about to stand when his League communicator went off. Excusing himself, Bruce walked to the back of the hall.

"Yes?"

"Bruce there's an emergency, can you transport up?"

It was Diana's voice.

"Give me a few moments and I'll signal you."

"All right."

"Diana?"

"Yes?"

"I found him."

"Who?"

"Clark."

* * *

><p>Blood Alley – One week later<p>

Bruce and Diana walked down what was supposed to be an aisle and took their seats. They were dressed as civilians, but they still drew more than their share of looks. Bruce Wayne was known everywhere. While Diana could put on glasses, conservative clothes even pull her hair in a ponytail she was still an Amazon. She stood out in every crowd.

As they waited for Clark's fight, Diana took in her surroundings. The press of humanity was almost overwhelming. Everywhere she looked she saw money changing hands. It reminded her of the stories she'd heard of the Coliseum in Rome. It was raw, brutal and without pity.

"That's Grinka," Bruce said to her. She followed his eye and saw the Frenchman in the front row. "That's Suzette next to him."

Diana took them both in, as Bruce explained what he'd learned. Julian Grinka, age unknown, arrived here from South Vietnam just before Saigon fell. He ran a brothel, where the lovely Suzette worked, but had his hands in many things.

"If it's dangerous or illegal, Grinka is somewhere around it,' Bruce said.

"I don't understand why Kal would be connected with such a man?"

"I've wondered that myself,' Bruce replied. "I think Suzette has something to do with it."

Diana looked at the young woman. She was certainly lovely. Diana could see what any man would like about her, but it still seemed odd that Kal would be with her. Perhaps he'd been right, she really didn't know him at all.

Bruce nudged her and Diana shifted her gaze to the ring. She saw him walk out and heard the cheers go up. The beard and mustache were gone since the last time she'd seen him in Jalalabad. The hair was longer, but she would know him anywhere. He wore what appeared to be cut off, knee length shorts. His powerful build was thinner, but still impressive. The other man in the fight was named Mountain Molloy. It was an apt name, as the man was enormous. He was easily six eight and three hundred pounds of thick muscle. He looked every inch a hard, cruel man.

There weren't any programs in a place like this, so Diana switched into the native language and asked some of the people sitting around them about the fighters. She learned there were no champions, no number one contenders here. It was just two men fighting. Molloy had been here for five years, making a living at this. At least two men had died in the ring with him. He was a vicious, dirty and powerful fighter. Most opponents feared him and with good reason.

When she asked about Kal, she saw those around her light up. He was popular with the crowd. While his fights were brutal, he never took advantage of a fallen foe. She was told he was so popular because he was the rarest of fighters. He didn't need combinations to knock his opponent out. His fights tended to end lightening fast, one tremendous punch knockouts. She thanked them as the bell rang and then turned all her attention to the ring.

As the fight started Diana absently thought Artemis would love this, but as it went on she changed her mind. Kal was losing badly. He took a tremendous beating, yet the fight continued. All her notions about fighting were thrown out the window here. Molloy hit Kal even when he fell, driving his knee into his back or kicking him in the sides. Kal fought back but he was clumsy, awkward and inefficient. She remembered back to the few times they had sparred in the early days of the League. He had always been reckless, relying on his power more than he should, but there had been a sense of grace about him too. She mentioned this to Bruce.

"That's because he was a creature of the air back then, now he's on the ground."

Bruce was equally troubled the longer this went on. He had more than his share of fights over the years, but this was something different, this was as a beating, a slaughter. Each time Clark fell, Bruce found himself hoping he wouldn't get up. The punishment he was taking was barbaric. It made no sense to Bruce; he knew Clark didn't need the money this bad, yet he kept getting up.

Part of Bruce admired that quality, but the pragmatic side found it senseless. Then it hit him what he was witnessing. He was watching a man punish himself. Suddenly the nickname made all the sense in the world, Pale Horse. The quote from Revelations came back to him.

_"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."_

They were watching a suicide play out in the ring. Clark went down again.

"Hera, Bruce, why don't they stop it?" Diana asked.

"Cause he keeps getting up."

* * *

><p>Blood Alley – The Present<p>

Clark looked up at his opponent and could barely make him out. He could hear him laughing, taunting him. Another kick came, forcing the wind from his lungs. His back was against the ropes, the sound deafening. he faded in and out. He looked to where he's seen his son and he was there again waving. He slowly started to fade and just before he disappeared he said good-bye. Clark whispered good-bye in return, the tears streaming down his face.

Another vicious kick landed and Molloy taunted him. He walked around the ring his hands raised in the air, playing to the crowd. There were some cheers, but mostly jeers amid the wall of noise. Molloy blew kisses to Suzette in the front row and Julian laughed. Molloy turned back and watched as Clark's hand reached again for the top rope. The smile turned into a cold, murderous scowl on Molloy's face. He was going to have to kill this man to keep him down. That was okay with him too.

Clark pulled himself to his feet. He saw Molloy advance and swing viciously for his already bruised ribs. Clark winced as it shook his body, but he didn't go down this time, he countered. A right cross to the jaw caught Molloy flush. It didn't have all his power behind it, but it made the bigger man step back.

"You're a dead man,' Molloy shouted. He moved towards Clark but again was driven back by punches. Bleeding battered and bruised, Clark kept advancing. Molloy hit him again and again, but he didn't stop.

The chant went up.

**"HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE!"**

Molloy growled in frustration, pushing Clark against the ropes and raking him across the eyes. He hit him with his elbow, snapping his head to the side. His knee drove into Clark's kidneys three times and then Molloy stepped back to finish him off.

He saw the punch coming but there was no time to move. Lightening fast Clark uncoiled and put everything into a straight right. As it made contact with the bigger man's jaw his legs gave out from under him. He staggered for a moment and then fell to the canvass face first. He didn't get up.

Pandemonium erupted in the hall. The old rickety building shook as the crowd jumped up and down and the sound threatened to shake it apart.

**"HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE!"**

Clark stood in the center of the ring as the handlers rolled Molloy over. He was breathing. Hands crawled at Clark, shouting and cheering, but he only turned and looked at the spot where he'd seen his son.

Good-bye.

* * *

><p>Phuket - The Togo Island Bar – Later<p>

Clark sat alone on the patio looking out over the water. Julian and Suzette had wanted him to come back with them, but he declined. Instead he came here and ordered a bottle. He was drinking alone. He'd been drinking for some time now. He raised his glass and thought back to the hall earlier. The fight never entered his mind. Silently he said another good-bye, one that was long overdue.

He heard them walk in and head towards his table. He'd seen them in the crowd but didn't acknowledge he'd had. He knew they would come. He didn't want to see him, but especially her. He was emotionally drained and didn't want to do this. He knew she would.

"Kal?"

"Clark."

He didn't turn to look at them.

"Diana, Bruce."


	10. Chapter 10

_I want to pull on your coat about something..._

Phuket, Thailand

He didn't invite them to sit down. They did anyway. Bruce was on his left, Diana on his right. Clark took another drink, finishing the glass.

"Celebrating?"

It was Bruce's idea of being ironic.

"Something like that."

He could feel Diana's eyes moving over the bruises and cut on his face and hands. Her expression was one of concern.

"You should see the other guy."

It was a lame attempted, but all he could come up with.

"We did." She replied, looking him directly in the eye.

"I know."

"You knew we were there?" Bruce almost seemed surprised as he said this.

"Yes, you'd be surprised what you can see from in there,' Clark replied. He reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. Diana gave him a disapproving look. Bruce, as usual, was unreadable.

"Wasn't that beating earlier punishment enough?' Diana asked. There it was, he thought, the first volley. He knew why they were here. Part of him even appreciated it, but the larger part just wished they would leave him alone. It had been a grueling night already. Emotions he hadn't been able to deal with had finally come to the surface. The bitter reality couldn't be denied any longer.

"It looked worse than it was,' he offered. He set the bottle down and picked up the glass.

"Yes, you managed to get up and win, this time,' Diana replied. "What happens next time when you can't get up?"

"I lose. I've lost before."

His words seemed to be referring to more than just the fight. Diana reached over and put her hand on his, stopping the glass before it got to his lips.

"Kal, I know you've suffered a horrible loss, but it does get better. It just takes time.'

He looked at her for a moment and then turned to Bruce.

"Does it, Bruce?"

Bruce clasped his hands together in front of him. He seemed to be studying his fingers for a moment. He seemed to be weighting his answer, but finally he just said the truth.

"No, it never does."

Clark glanced at Diana and then eased his hand away from hers and took another drink.

"You do learn to live with it, though."

Bruce was looking at Clark.

"It's your choice, really. What you do afterwards."

"Well, we all can't become Batman,' Clark replied.

"It seemed like a better choice than drinking myself to death or getting killed in a meaningless fight."

"Like I said, it looked worse than it was." Clark took another drink.

"We saw it, Clark or should I say Pale Horse?"

"That stupid nickname,' Clark groaned. He shook his head in disgust.

"It seemed pretty apt from where I was sitting. I've seen death wishes before."

"That isn't why they gave it to me,' Clark replied. "They gave it to me because Death always seems to follow me around. People are always dying around me."

Clark reached for the bottle again, but Diana grabbed it first. She looked at it for a moment and then tossed it away into the ocean.

"I won't sit here and just watch wallow in your pity,' she said.

Clark looked at her for a moment and then turned and signaled the bartender for another bottle.

"I have a tab,' he offered.

"I'll get this one,' Bruce said. He stood up and Diana was surprised.

"Bruce?" She started to protest, but he stopped her.

"Diana, if he wants to drink himself blind, we shouldn't stop him. Everyone deserves to make a fool of themselves,' Bruce replied and then walked towards the bar.

"Thanks, Bruce,' Clark sarcastically replied. He glanced over at Diana. "I'll just remove temptation."

He held his glass away from her and then stood and moved to the railing. He knew what was coming. He would have been more surprised if she didn't try. It might be ten years since they sat like this; Clark thought he knew her well enough.

This wasn't going the way she wanted it to. Since Bruce had told her he'd found him, Diana had been imagining what she would say. She'd run over scenarios in her mind, thinking of counterarguments for what she expected him to offer. On the flight over, she felt confident she could make a rational, heartfelt case to Kal, but then she saw the fight.

The fight had thrown her. Oh, she had seen more than her share of fights and even brutality in her years, that wasn't it. Frankly, she wasn't sure what it was about it that disturbed her so much. Perhaps it was the helplessness she felt as she watched him get driven into the canvass again and again. It was such a sickening feeling being a spectator to it all.

She thought on the way over here, she could still go ahead with her planned argument, but seeing his bruised and battered face up close rattled her. It had her out of step and now she wasn't sure what she could say. Standing up and moving over next to him, Diana made another attempt to reach him.

"Kal, I won't presume to know what agony you've been through, but this isn't the answer. It's a hard truth, but you're not the only one that's ever lost someone. Look around you, that unfortunately is the world we live in."

"You don't think I know that, Diana? He asked. "Maybe I'm just not as good a person as you, but I can't treat them all equally. Some … Some losses hit closer to home, that's just the way of things. Call me selfish if you want, but I don't seem to be equipped to care about strangers as much as I care about … about those close to me. I guess whatever 'Gods' that created me, weren't as wonderful as yours."

There it was again, the dig, she thought. He wants to provoke me, just like the last time. He wanted to get her angry so he could push her away. Oh, he is such an infuriating man, Diana thought.

"Leaving the Gods out of it for now, is this what you plan to do from now on,' Diana asked. She wanted to challenge him, just as he was challenging her. His dig had stung and in the heat of the moment she decided to give one back. "Being a drunken whore monger doesn't seem like much of a tribute to those you've lost."

She saw the anger flash in his eyes and knew she had stung him. She expected him to lash out at her, but not the way he did.

Clark finished his drink and tossed his glass away. He wanted to slap her or tell her to go fuck herself, but somehow knew that wouldn't end it. All he wanted was to end this, to get away from her and Bruce, but especially her. He moved in front of Diana and places his hands on the railing on either side of her. They were very close now. He looked into her eyes.

"Like I said, I guess I'm not as good a person as you are, Diana,' he whispered. "I'm sure it's weakness in your mind to want the touch of someone, to feel something, anything, even if it is for a few fleeting moments. Have you never felt that want, Diana? When you lie alone in bed at night, don't you ever dream about someone else touching you like that? Someone reminding you what it to feel alive?"

He reached up and ever so gently ran just the tip of his finger along her cheek.

Diana felt the anger stir inside her again. How dare he, she thought. Oh, he was without a doubt the most infuriating man she had ever met. Even Bruce, the most mercurial man ever created, didn't infuriate her like he did. Diana thought about the first time she had met Kal. He'd kissed her, full on, without even a hello or anything. She had been so caught off guard, so flustered, but by the time she was able to react, he was already apologizing and telling her why they wouldn't work.

He basically played out a whole relationship for them before she could even speak. The arrogance was overwhelming, she thought, yet his contrition seemed so genuine she didn't know how to react. Diana had been so new to the world; she didn't even realize at the time, he'd opened and close the door on them before she even considered there was a door to be opened. Now he was trying to do something similar, but 13 years had past.

Diana stood her ground, even took a step closer to him. She held his eyes as she whispered her reply.

"You said awhile ago, we only knew each other briefly a long time ago and that I really didn't know you at all, Kal. That goes both ways. What did you think I would do? Blush and run away? Do you really believe you're the first man I've had make advances towards me? I'm not the naïve innocent that just arrived 13 years ago, Kal. Are you so drunk or just arrogant you thought this would work?"

With just the tips of her fingers she gave him a shove, but it was hard enough to move him back. He bumped into the table, nearly stumbling, but caught himself.

Stupid, he instantly thought, and what was I thinking?

The sound of a bottle being set on the table caused them both to turn. Bruce was standing watching them.

"Wasn't one beating enough for tonight, Clark?"

Practical as always, Clark thought. He actually smiled for the first time all night.

"Yes, it is,' Clark replied. He moved away from Diana and then turned and looked at her.

"I apologize, I was out of line, Diana. I'm sorry, forgive me."

Before she could answer, he turned and held out his hand to Bruce.

"I should probably apologize to you too, Bruce and thank you,' Clark said. "I didn't before, but I appreciate everything you did … the funeral and all. I should have said so earlier, so thank you."

"That's what friends do, Clark,' Bruce replied, taking Clark's hand and shaking it. "Your welcome, I was more than willing to help. In fact, both of us still are."

"Yes, Kal,' Diana added. "That hasn't changed. We're still your friends, we want to help you."

Clark looked at both of them and then nodded.

"Thank you both. I certainly haven't acted like much of a friend and there is no excuse for that. Many things may have changed, but I still remember what gratitude is. I'm grateful for what you both are trying to do, but I think you're wasting your time in this case. Others can't help some things; it just doesn't work that way. I should go now. Thank you both, again."

"Kal!"

He was already walking away. Diana wanted to rush after him, to tell him he was wrong, but something held her back. One moment passed and then another, yet she didn't move from her spot. She felt Bruce's hand on her arm and turned to look at him.

"Let him go, Diana. He's right, some things you have to deal with yourself."

Diana saw something in Bruce's eye and she knew he wasn't just talking about Clark. He was another man haunted by tragedy.

"I don't believe that, Bruce,' she gently said. "Yes, ultimately it is an individual choice, but others can help you along the way. It doesn't have to be a journey taken alone."

Perhaps it was the advancing night or the way he was turned, but Bruce seemed to be in the shadows. He put his hands in his pockets and glanced out over the water. Whether he was still talking about Clark or himself, Diana wasn't sure.

"You may be right, but that's part of the choice too. Not all hands offered are of friendship, Diana. Maybe along that journey you come to believe the only one you can really trust is yourself."

They were silent for a moment. The whole night had not gone as Diana planned and it was frustrating. She so rarely felt thrown by anything anymore, it was surprising and exasperating when it did. Tonight had been one of those rare times.

"We should probably be getting back too,' Bruce said.

"This feels unfinished, Bruce."

"Yes, but things don't always work out the way we want them to."

Diana reluctantly agreed and they started for the door. As they were just about to leave, she glanced back and saw the unopened bottle on the table. Such an infuriating man.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Andakira Hotel<p>

It was a brand-new Hotel located in the heart of Patong Beach, just minutes away from shopping centre, nightlife entertainment and the beach. It had 104 rooms and suites that featured a contemporary modern design. It was beautifully furnished and equipped with all the comforts one could wish for.

A man stood on the balcony of a fifth floor suite with binoculars. He wasn't watching the sunset or the tourists' spots, but what was happening at the Togo Island Bar. Tom Tresser wasn't sure why he was here, but there was a need inside him to know. It wasn't like him to be jealous, it really wasn't. Of course he'd never dated anyone like Diana before. He'd always thought Wonder Woman was way out of his league.

Things had been good, very good with her. Diana was unlike any woman he'd ever known. She literally took his breath away every time he saw her. He fell for her hard right from the start, but knew he couldn't rush things. There were issues unique to dating her, but he thought he could handle them. For the most part he had, but one seemed to gnaw away at him, the other men in her past.

He'd been with other women and they're past lovers or boyfriends had never bothered him, but then again, they weren't Wonder Woman. It had taken awhile, but she had been open with him about the others she'd been with. It shouldn't have been a problem but it was. He couldn't help comparing himself to them. He was just a special agent for a shadowy government agency, while they were heroes and legends in some cases. The rumors he constantly heard of others didn't help either. He knew they were baseless and that she wouldn't lie about it, but once those thoughts were in his head he couldn't seem to get rid of them.

It had been just a spur of the moment call to see how she was doing. Her secretary told him she was out of the country. His first thought was she was working with the Justice League, but the secretary let it slip that she was on personal business. He then thought she'd probably went back to Africa, as that experience seemed to have a deep significance for her. A little checking showed she was in Thailand. She was traveling with Bruce Wayne, another name from her past.

Tom was already in South Korea on business so the urge to stop down was too much to resist. He'd been watching her all day. The ease with which she seemed to interact with Bruce bothered him. They were old friends she had told him once, but clearly there was more to it than that. Tom might have left it at that, but then they went to the fight. Why were they there, he wondered? It seemed out of character for Diana to go to something like that. Curiosity got the best of him again, so he bought a ticket. He stayed in the background, across from where Diana and Bruce were sitting.

When the fight started, he recognized Clark Kent immediately. It had been years since their brief meeting, but he'd hardly changed at all. The fight was brutal, but Tom wasn't watching it as much as he was watching Diana. Her eyes never left the ring. She seemed to be suffering right along with him, wincing at every blow. He thought he knew her, but this was a side he'd never seen before. Her emotions seemed to be so intense, so open. She was never like that with him.

After the fight, he kept his distance. He didn't follow Diana and Bruce, but Clark. The bar was within easy surveillance of his hotel room. Tom couldn't say he was surprised when she showed up. Superman and Wonder Woman together again, it was like some bad cliché. He wasn't just a ghost from her past; he was flesh and blood again.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Le Chabanais<p>

Julian sat back and looked around with a smile on his face. Business was good tonight, but then it usually was. He had enjoyed the fight immensely, but was a little disappointed Kal hadn't come back with him and Suzette. Julian's eyes wandered over to the staircase just as Suzette and another client were descending. They hadn't been upstairs long, but the man didn't seem disappointed.

Suzette fawned over the client, blushing and complimenting him on his skill. He ate it up and never questioned her sincerity. She is so good, Julian thought, she always knows just how to handle them, but then that is what makes her so special. As she ushered the client to the door, Julian watched her. It was all smiles on her beautiful face, until the door closed. The façade dropped then. The client was completely forgotten as if he'd never existed.

She saw Julian sitting alone and walked over to his table. His smile got bigger as he gallantly stood up and held her chair. Silently he signaled the bartender for champagne. Suzette loved champagne and he liked keeping his best girl happy. She thanked the bartender and he smiled in gratitude. She just naturally seemed to please men, all men. As she delicately took a sip from her glass, her eyes moved over the room.

"It seems to be a good night,' she observed.

"Yes, but not for you,' Julian replied.

"Why do you say that?"

"You've been expecting him, haven't you?"

There was no benefit for her to lie, so she didn't.

"Yes."

"You like him."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes."

"Good, good, one should always enjoy their work,' Julian said. "A little danger always adds some spice to life."

"You think he's dangerous,' she asked, sipping her champagne.

"Don't you?"

"Yes, but not in the usual way,' she admitted.

"Ah, you see it too,' Julian replied, nodding in satisfaction. "He is a good man; perhaps he was once even a great man. Very rare these days, yet very dangerous."

"That's why you're interested in him, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Your hobby?"

"You know me too well,' Julian said with a laugh. "I have lived a long life and there are so few things that interest me anymore. My vices have, shall we say, reached to the exotic, the very rare. It gets harder each year, but one must find pleasure where they can."

"And watching a good man fall is your vice,' Suzette replied.

"Yes and if I can give him a gentle nudge along the way, so much the better."

He held up his glass and she touched hers to it. They sipped their champagne as Nine Simone's _This Years Kisses_ played over the jukebox.


	11. Chapter 11

"These are the tears of things"

Phuket, Thailand – one month later

Sorrow is an old sounding word you don't hear much anymore. It doesn't fit neatly into the modern vernacular. Sorrow is much more intense than sadness and implies a long-term state. It suggests a degree of resignation. New more functional and profitable words have replaced it for the most part, such as grief and depression. There is even the wildly known theory of the 5 stages of loss. The shift in language has a purpose. Stages imply something you proceed through and come out the other side. Grief has counselors that help you learn to cope. Depression has pills to manage it. The goal with all these words is to imply there is a fix, a victory to be had.

The only treatment for sorrow it seems is to rename it.

A poet might refer to this as ennui or that world-weary sensation of a "soul-destroying fiend" which visits with its "pale unrest / The chambers of the human breast."

A dish of boiled rice in a light broth, with minced pork sat in front of Clark. It was a small, street side café that catered to the locals. It was breakfast or more accurately, the first meal of his day. There was a sullen look to his eyes and a general lethargy to his movements. In a strict clinical sense he had moved through the stages of loss, acceptance being the last to come. He wasn't exactly cured, no one is every cured of anything these days. Having passed through the stages, though, he should be able to cope and manage any linger problems. What this didn't take into account was sorrow. It just meant no more tears would be shed.

His hair was longer. He hadn't shaved this morning. Climbing out of his bed at the small hotel had taken far too much energy to worry about some stubble on his chin. He showered and dressed on autopilot. He knew he had to eat, but wasn't really hungry. The ennui was heavy this morning.

Some would say he was at a crossroads, but that was too easy. A crossroads implied only one decision needed to be made. Still others would classify it as a funk he was in. He just needed something to snap him out of it. If you'd changed the location and put him in a cemetery standing in front of headstones the true picture would become much clearer. While he might have accepted they were dead, that was really little comfort. No one would say in those surrounding, snap out of it. Like a boat that slipped its moorings, he was adrift. Tomorrow promised to be just like today which in turn was just like yesterday. The fights didn't come often enough to break the melancholy.

He took a long drink from his beer and glanced absently around the street when he saw her, Suzette. He licked his lips, feeling his mouth begin to water at the sight of her. He fought the urge to get up and go to her. He hadn't seen her in two weeks, as he told himself not to be so weak. That was all well and good when her temptation wasn't before his eyes. As he watched her casually stroll down the road, glancing at the vendors' wares, he knew he would go to her. His need was suddenly overwhelming.

Suzette knew he was watching her. It was the reason she was here, for him to see. Each night for that last two weeks she had waited, but he didn't come. Others occupied her time, but her mind was on him. She wanted him. It was so simple, so basic with him. There was no conversation, no artifice, just raw, wanton sex when they were together. It was like a drug, and Suzette found she'd developed a taste for it.

Julian encouraged her to go to him. Suzette had no illusions about why. He never did anything that didn't benefit him in the long run. She didn't really care. If Julian wanted to watch a good man fall, that was fine with her, as long as she got what she wanted in the process. They were very similar in this regard. At the moment what she wanted was that very same good man. The two weeks without seeing him only made this moment sweeter. She didn't look at him, but knew he couldn't take his eyes off her. She stopped directly across from where he was. She smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from the front of her plain, thin white dress flashing just a hint of thigh. She waited, the anticipation growing. Then he was next to her. She didn't pretend to be surprised, just smiled at him.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

It was dinner for two at an elegant and romantic restaurant. Diana and Tom smiled at each other as the waitress placed their food in front of them. After she departed, he told Diana again how beautiful she was. She smiled and returned the compliment. She said how handsome and dashing he looked in his suit. They took another sip of their wine and then picked up their knives and forks. Dinner was delicious, but it always was here. They made polite conversation, catching up on what was new with each other. Being in Washington both knew many of the same people, so the local gossip was always an easy, comfortable topic.

It was a pleasant evening. They seemed to fit well together. From the beginning this was one of the attractions. They both had full stressful careers, but when they were together they could relax a bit. Later they would go back to his apartment. That would be pleasant too. Each had past failures in the romance department and had felt the sting of disappointment.

Tom asked how her Chilean sea bass was. Diana nodded and replied that it was just the way she liked it. Tom smiled and said his steak was perfect too. He glanced at her as he cut another bite. His voice was calm, but inside his head was a different story. A tempest of emotions and questions raged. He'd always wondered why normal, for the most part, rational people would never confront their partners over suspicions. Now he knew. If the question was asked, an answer came. An answer meant a decision had to be made. There was also the very real possibility that the answer wouldn't be the one you want.

Diana ate her dinner, enjoyed the familiar quality of the restaurant, but she was restless. She glanced at her Blackberry sitting next to her plate. It was a common sight nowadays. Tom's phone was in his left jacket pocket, she knew. As she put another forkful of food into her mouth, she thought of her schedule that was so meticulously planned, her contacts, photos, maps, utilities, notes, favorite news apps and even her personal play lists on Pandora. Her world was sitting right there on the table next to her. If it became necessary, she even had Skype if she need to conference with someone. It was all designed to keep her in touch, up to date and on top of things, yet the restlessness was still there.

Even this dinner had been scheduled, along with returning to Tom's apartment some time afterwards. Tomorrow she would be back at the Embassy. There was a working breakfast planned, then an hour to review new correspondence, a few social and diplomatic calls to be made and then off to a fund raising luncheon. The rest of her day was just as planned, down to her shift on the Watchtower. Every moment of every day for the foreseeable future was at her disposal, sitting on the table next to her plate. Her knife and fork cut off another piece of the sea bass and she brought it up to her lips as she'd done a thousand times before.

Something stopped her for just a moment. She looked down at it, suddenly trying to remember if she'd had the same thing the last time she was here? Or was it the time before that, or the time before that, or all of them? As she put the fork into her mouth, Diana suddenly thought about the luncheon tomorrow. Hadn't she been to the very same luncheon a month ago? She could even picture the menu in her head, chicken, some sort of pasta, salad followed by sorbet with assorted beverages. Or was that the luncheon next week?

Tom glanced around the restaurant, as he took another drink of his wine. Movers and shakers sat at several tables, but his eyes seemed to find the couples. He wondered if they were happy? Did they even know if they were happy or was it all an illusion they both participated in? His eyes shifted to Diana. Was that what was going on with them? His feelings seemed to be all over the place lately. He hoped she would tell him about Thailand, but she hadn't said a word. This just intensified the doubts and questions he had. It felt as if she was slipping away from him. He didn't know what to do about it.

If he asked was there something going on between her and Clark, he wasn't sure he really wanted to hear the answer. She had never lied to him, or at least he didn't think she had. What if she lied this time? He would be faced with a choice of believing her or not. If she said there was, that brought different choices.

This wasn't like him, he kept thinking. He wasn't the jealous type. He prided himself on knowing that when something wasn't working or over, he could face it and move on. His relationship with Diana was completely different than any other. There had been times in the past few months when he'd even considered broaching the subject of taking it to the next level. Now he wondered if it would even continue as it was. Was it over because her past had come back to life? So many questions, yet he didn't ask any of them. He wasn't ready for the answers.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Le Chabanais<p>

"_Never know how much I love you  
>never know how much I care<br>when you put your arms around me  
>I give you fever that's so hard to bare<em>

_you give me fever_  
><em>when you kiss me<em>  
><em>fever when you hold me tight<em>  
><em>Fever<em>  
><em>In the morning<em>  
><em>Fever all through the night<em>

_Sun lights up the day time_  
><em>moon lights up the night<em>  
><em>I light up when you call my name<em>  
><em>and you know I'm gonna treat you right"<em>

Suzette straddled him, as Peggy Lee's sultry voice crooned the lyrics. Looking into his eyes, she continued to move ever so slowly, grinding on top of him. His hands lightly held her slender hips, but she was in control of the speed and tempo. He was breathing hard, the pleasure so focused and immediately. He willed himself to last just a little longer, to hang over the cliff just a bit more. Little gasps and moans escaped her lips, yet she didn't alter her rhythm one bit. Suzette had been waiting for this two weeks, she was going to enjoy it.

Sweat beads glistened on her skin, rolling seductively down over her curves of her body. He leaned forward, his tongue catching them as they moved up her flat stomach. Higher and higher he moved, taking his time, enjoying every inch of her. She gave a little gasp as his tongue flicked her right gold ring. Her hands moved through his hair and then seemed to be urging him higher. He leaned back and looked at her. Suzette lowered her lips to his mouth and kissed him.

The rules were gone. This was what it was. His hands stroked against her slim back, sending little shivers through her. Her tongue playfully darted against his, enticing and tempting him. Her hips rolled and brought a groan from deep inside his throat. She eased him away with her hands, stroking his chest. She picked up the pace, wanting to send him over the edge. She wanted when he was alone at night that she was the only one he thought of. She wanted him to fall in love with her, so she could possess him completely.

They didn't speak. It wasn't a part of this. The momentary sensations were too intense, too urgent. The immediacy was what they both craved. Being totally in the now, the very moment was transcendent. All the senses seemed pushed beyond their limits. They were essentially strangers, yet closer in this moment than the most intimate friends.

Her eased them over so he was on top. Her legs slithered up around him, pulling him closer. His hands skimmed over her body, feeling it move and press against him. His eyes found hers and then so did his lips.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

After a leisurely walk, Diana and Tom were back in his apartment. The lights were low. Journey's "Faithfully" played in the background. They were on the bed. He was kissing her. It was nice. His hands stroked over her body, touching her in the most intimate way. Diana ran her fingers through his hair. They slowly began to rock in unison. It was like a choreographed dance where each knew the steps very well.

Diana let herself relax, yet always remained mindful of staying in control. He kissed along her neck, whispering compliments in her ear. Her hips gently rocked to meet his descent. His lips moved along her collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses. Diana opened her thighs just a little wider and stroked her fingers down his back.

"You are so beautiful,' he whispered. "Are you okay?

"Yes, Tom, I'm fine. Don't stop."

His lips returned to her neck, kissing and nibbling. Diana tilted her head to the side, giving him more access. Her mind seemed to drift. She knew she was probably rather conservative as a lover, but she was always mindful of her partner's enjoyment. It had been such a strange and awkward thing the first time, but she knew she wanted to do it again. Being so vulnerable with another human being was so tantalizing.

In some ways she enjoyed the build up to it almost more than the act. The caresses, the slow reveal, the anticipation and the desire all combined to make it so alluring. Over the years she had learned to enjoy the physical act as well. Giving pleasure and receiving it, what could be better than that?

As they continued, the restlessness she'd been feeling all night seemed to return. It was almost as if she were standing outside herself watching them. She noted his movements and her own. The words of endearment they both professed seemed to come from someplace far away, as if she were hearing them from a television in the next room. She watched her hand as her fingers moved through his hair and then shifted her gaze downward to see her thigh move along his flank.

Her mind seemed to drift back to her schedule. She thought one of the meetings tomorrow was about fishing rights, or was that today's meeting? Diana made a mental note to speak with one of her secretaries about promoting the new girl to the event-planning department. She had a flair for it and background in the field. A new voice might just be the thing. She wondered about the election of chairperson coming up on the Watchtower. She had already let it be known she was not in the running for the position.

The bed began to move faster and Diana was suddenly back in her body, not watching from the outside. She looked up at Tom as his lips moved down towards hers. She kissed him, opening her mouth and letting his tongue dance against hers.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Le Chabanais<p>

It was getting dark outside the window as Clark slipped one of his arms into his shirt. It was wrinkled from where it had been tossed on the floor, but he really hadn't been worried about it in the moment. He moved over to the basin and poured some water into it. He splashed his face several times and then looked at his reflection in the mirror.

It was over now and the rush slowly faded away.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Suzette pull a small mirror from the nightstand. He watched as she carefully separated a thin white line and then bent to inhale it through a twenty-dollar bill.

"What are you doing?"

She tilted her head back and smiled at him.

"What does it look like?"

"Cocaine."

"Yes, it is almost pure, its wonderful,' she replied. "Would you like some?"

"No."

He almost said it was illegal, but given the circumstances that was just too hypocritical to say out loud. He turned and walked over to the bed, as she did another line.

"You don't need that, Suzette."

She looked at him again and laughed a sweet, musical laugh.

"No, I don't need it, I want it,' she replied. "Just as I want you."

She playfully ran her toes along his calf, just below his shorts. He thought he was finished, but as she caressed him with just her foot and he looked at her he felt the desire return. He stepped back, breaking the contact. Words weren't a part of this, so he wasn't sure what to say. Finally he settled on the simplest.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure, Kal."

He moved to the door and left. He headed down the stairs, wanting suddenly to leave immediately. He nodded to the other girls as they called to him, but kept moving towards the door. He stepped outside and took a deep breath. The hot, humid hair hadn't cooled at all.

"Good to see you again, Horse."

He turned to see Julian sitting at a small table in front of the building.

"Julian."

"Join me for a drink?"

"Maybe some other time.

Clark started to move away, but Julian called to him again.

"She missed you, but then you know this,' he said. "She was very unhappy when you didn't come to see her."

Clark stopped and took a step back towards the table.

"That wasn't … what I wanted."

"A whore has feelings too, Kal."

Clark felt his fingers clinch, but he quickly unclenched them. He knew Julian enjoyed rubbing his face in it, but he wished he wouldn't be so callous with her.

"Is that really necessary? We all know what this is."

"Some times we forget,' Julian countered.

"I haven't forgotten, Julian."

"You assume I was speaking of you."

"Suzette? I don't think so,' Clark replied. Julian smiled and poured another drink for himself and filled another glass. He slid it towards Clark.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Clark sat down, but didn't touch the glass.

"What are you implying, Julian?"

"Me? Why would I be implying anything? I drink a toast to your enjoyment of my establishment!"

He held his glass out to Clark. Reluctantly Clark picked up the glass in front of him and joined him in the toast. He knocked back the drink and set the glass down. He could feel the smooth burn of it all the way down his throat. Julian smiled and poured him another one.

* * *

><p>Washington – Themysciran Embassy<p>

Diana sat behind her desk. Across from her were her secretaries. They were going over her schedule and taking care of the paperwork for the day. It was a necessary part of the job, but not her favorite. As the secretaries took turns telling her what each piece of paper was and why she needed to sign in, Diana found she wasn't listening. Her mind drifted to the note she'd received earlier. It was from the aid workers. The government had closed down the clinic and they were being asked to leave the country. The chance the village had just decreased substantially. Diana signed the papers without really looking at them. As they moved on to the week and monthly schedule, the restlessness came rushing back.

"Stop.

Diana held up her hand to the two women.

"I can't do this right now."

"We can reschedule this for later,' one secretary suggested. "We can probably fit it in sometime after the luncheon."

The two secretaries both looked at the planners on their tablets.

"It will have to be before dinner,' the other secretary said. "The limo is due at six, so we should be able to clear some time."

"No.'

Diana was leaning on her desk, her right hand up to her mouth. She moved her fingers, as if to indict all of it, but it was a rather weak gesture.

"I suppose we could move some things around."

"No, not to today, I can't do any of this today,' Diana informed them. "I'm sorry, but I need you to cancel all the appointment on the schedule for today. I know this is unexpected and puts you both in an awkward spot, but I just can't do this today."

The secretaries were surprised and a little flustered, but they were professionals. They were already making notes and starting to text as Diana stood up.

"Madame Ambassador?"

"I just need to go. I'll be back, but right now I need to go."

Diana stepped out from the desk and headed towards the French glass doors that opened off her office to the gardens. She stepped outside and slowly began to rise. She could hear her secretaries already making her excuses. Diana didn't look back.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Late Morning<p>

The first drink had been followed by several others. They went down so much easier after the first one. It turned into a late night and now someone was knocking on Clark's door making it an early morning. He lay there hoping they would go away, but whoever it was kept knocking. With a groan he sat up and ran his fingers over his face. The dull ache was just behind his eyes. The knocking continued. With a sigh, he slipped on his shorts and stumbled over to the door. He jerked it open and saw Diana standing there.

"Kal."

She smiled at him.

A moment passed and then he closed the door and walked back to the bed.

It was only in the air that she found herself flying towards Thailand. She could have taken her invisible jet, but the weather was clear and she wanted to think. She arrived near the beach and smoothing out the wind tossed casual slacks and a blouse she was wearing. She made a beeline to his hotel. She was nervous, but a little excited too. She had rehearsed what she wanted to say to him, and this time he wasn't going to stop her. She stood in front of his hotel room door and knocked. He didn't answer, but she wasn't going to be put off. Diana continued knocking. Finally the door opened and he stood looking at her.

"Kal."

She smiled at him.

He didn't respond, but then the door was closed.

She was stunned. It took a moment for her mind to process what just happened.

He didn't just …. He did! How dare he! He closed the door in my face! The nerve of him!

Her temper started to boil.

Oh, he was the most infuriating man she had ever met! She was going to tell him off straight away! Diana knocked harder this time. He opened door again and looked at her. She wasn't smiling this time.

"Kal!"

"Go away, Diana."

He closed the door once more.

He did it again!

Now Diana was hot, she was boiling mad. She pounded on the door so hard the wood groaned under her hand. He opened the door again.

"If you break the door, they'll charge me for it."

"If you attempt to close it in my face again, Kal, the door won't be the only think broken!"

The fire was plain in her eyes as she glared at him. He sighed and finally stepped back.

"I guess you're coming in then."


	12. Chapter 12

Under Your Skin

Phuket – Thailand

Clark reluctantly stepped back and allowed Diana to enter. She was more than a bit angry with him by this point. As she marched passed him into the room she couldn't help noticing he smelled like liquor, sweat and sex. She wrinkled her nose and turned to him as he closed the door.

"You stink."

He leaned against the door and rubbed his hand over his face. Through still half closed eyes, he frowned at her.

"You came all the way here to tell me that?"

"What? Ah, no, that's was just an observation,' she replied.

"Thanks."

Hera, he'd thrown her off again, Diana thought. She quickly got her temper back under control. She knew what she wanted to say to him, having gone over it several times on the flight here. She was just about to speak, but he had moved and his back was to her. Damn it, can't he stand still for once, she thought? He poured some water into a bowl and then bent down to splash it over his face. He ran his fingers through his hair slicking it back and then splashed water his face again. Diana noticed for the first time he was only wearing a pair was loose, worn khaki shorts. From the way they hung on his hips she realized that was all he was wearing.

He finally turned and looked at her. Water dripped from his hair and face onto his bare chest and shoulders. He didn't seem to care.

"So?"

"I wanted to talk to you, Kal,' Diana began. Finally, she thought, she knew just how she wanted to start and launched into it. "The last time we spoke didn't go the way I'd hoped, so that's why I'm here."

He looked at her for a moment and then sighed.

"Another pep talk? Really? Isn't there a Girl Scout troop or Young Amazon Glee club you could give it too instead?"

He moved towards the bed to lie back down. Diana felt her anger rising again. He kept doing that, she thought, interrupting me and getting me off track. He was really starting to piss her off.

"Kal!"

"Not interested Princess,' he said. Clark didn't turning to face her, but continuing towards the bed.

"I'm not here for a pep talk,' she replied. Just saying the word 'pep' was annoying to her. He was dismissing her, but it wasn't going to be that easy this time. She wasn't some rookie anymore and if she had to change her tactics, she could adjust on the fly. "Hit me, Kal."

She had thought up this option on the way here too. She was fully prepared for him to protest and had an explanation ready. What she didn't have ready were her defenses. Without a word, his left fist flicked out and bopped her in the nose. She blinked in disbelief. He hit me! No protest, no reluctance, nothing, he just hit me! She had certainly been hit much harder in her life, but his punch had caught her completely by surprise.

"You happy now?"

She looked at him and thought she detected just the hint of a smile. Oh, he is really asking for it now, Diana grumbled to herself.

"Hit me again." She said through clenched teeth. He sighed and shook his head, then threw a straight right. Diana sidestepped it easily. She countered, driving her fist into his stomach. The air inside his body exploded from his mouth, as he gasped and sank to his knees. She hadn't hit him with all her power, but perhaps just a little more than was really necessary. As she watched him on his knees gasping for air, a small smile played over her lips. There was something strangely satisfying about hitting him.

"You telegraphed your punch and left yourself completely open for a counter, Kal."

He managed to get himself up from his knees and sit on the bed. He winced as he felt his stomach.

"You don't say?"

"Yes. It was rather easy for me to hit you."

"I think I got it,' he managed to reply.

"You are clumsy, awkward and poor at defense,' Diana continued. "You leave yourself open for too much punishment. It boils down to you are a horrible fighter."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you are dreadful,' she replied. "It's embarrassing really."

She stood looking directly into his eyes. She kept her face calm and placid, but she enjoyed watching the anger flash through his eyes. She could see his jaw tighten as he sat up a little straighter.

"Not that it matters, _Princess_,' he said. He put a little more emphasis on the word Princess just to annoy her. "But I have been in several fights as you know. I won most of them and got paid for it. I think I know how to fight."

"Oh, I saw you 'fight', Kal, remember? Brilliant strategy, letting your opponent beat you senseless till they get so overconfident they relax and you can get your one lucky punch in. It's genius, well done, Kal."

"One lucky punch." He repeated the words, his voice low and angry.

"Yes. One-Lucky-Punch."

She felt she finally had the upper hand with him and pressed her advantage. 13 years as an Ambassador had taught her how to adjust to the circumstances and situation.

He was pissed; there was no two ways about it. Clark's head was throbbing and the early wake up call only exasperated his already foul mood. Now she was going to be snotty. He didn't want her here in the first place. Several choice words came to mind, but he held his tongue. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of getting into a verbal battle with her this time. Slumping back on the bed, he closed his eyes and rolled away from her.

"If you want your money back from the fight, take it up with the promoters, Princess."

She wasn't going to let him go back to sleep. She stepped over to the bed. She wished he had a shirt on so she could snatch him up, but he only had those shorts on. Her hand started then stopped, remembering he wasn't wearing anything else. In frustration, she grabbed the whole bed and lifted it and then dropped it again.

"God damn it, Diana!" Clark shouted as he bounced off the bed and onto the floor. "Can't you take a hint?"

"No."

'Then I'll put so even you can understand, go away!"

"No."

He groaned in frustration. It may have been ten years, but he certainly remembered just how stubborn she could be. He sighed and ran his hand over his face. The anger and frustration swirled inside of him, but he pushed it away. It took a moment, but he finally looked up at her again. His voice was very calm and low.

"Go away, Diana, I don't want you here."

"Too bad."

"What is it you want, Diana, huh? Are you going to save me, is that it?"

"If I said yes, you would tell me not to,' Diana replied. "So since you insisted on following this path, I am going to teach you to fight."

"I know how to fight."

"Hardly.'

"And if I say no?" He asked.

Diana smiled and pulled over a chair. She sat down facing him.

"Then we can talk. I'm not leaving till we do one or other, Kal. So what's it going to be?"

He grumbled under his breath. He hated that satisfied smile on her face. Damn her, he thought.

"I guess we fight."

She was hoping he would talk to her, but she would take this. Reaching down she started to help him to his feet, but he pulled away from her.

"Can I at least take a shower first?"

"Please do."

She gave him a smirk. He returned it with a scornful look. Diana turned and started for the door to give him some privacy.

"Don't take too long,' she said.

He gritted his teeth, but then wicked smile came to his face. He quickly reached over and gave her a smack on the ass.

"I try and hurry, honey."

Diana gasped; her eyes went wide in shock. He didn't just … she thought, he did! Oh, I'm going to kill him! She turned and glared at him.

"You do have a death wish, don't you?" She spat out at him.

"What? With all those men making advances towards you, don't tell me none of them gave you a pat on the butt, Princess? Too tempting not to."

He flashed a sarcastic smile and then stepped into the bathroom. He closed the door before she could speak. Diana stood just staring a hole in the bathroom door almost trembling she was so angry. He was the most infuriating man!

* * *

><p>Hong Kong<p>

Tom Tresser was in full Nemesis mode, moved silently through the back alleys of the city. His senses and instincts were on high alert. He was getting more anxious as the seconds passed. Something was wrong. His meeting had been twenty minutes ago, but the safe house was empty. Six months cultivating this source and when it was finally going to pay off the man doesn't show. That was a bad sign. If their relationship was blown that meant they would be after Tom.

He scouted out his hotel, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He'd registered under a false name and in disguise, but there was no reason to believe it was still safe. Protocols said abandon it; just walk away, but Tom still had some hope for his contact. It was worth the risk, just to make sure the man hadn't tried to contact him. He stepped out, surveying the street and the casually walked passed the hotel. He didn't see anything amiss, but that didn't mean it wasn't. He walked to the end of the street and turned the corner. Glancing back, he tried to pick up anything out of place. Nothing. Either they were very good or they didn't know about the hotel yet.

He found the closest alley and started up the fire escape. He pulled himself over the top ledge and dropped into a crouch. With a flick of a switch, his glasses when into heat seeking mode. He remained completely still, just scanning the entire area. It was quiet, too quiet. Something was definitely wrong. He eased the small, black gun from the holster under his coat and quickly attached the silencer. His crape-soled shoes didn't make a sound as he skirted the rooftop, moving towards his hotel. Keeping to the shadows, he continually scanned for any movement. Still nothing.

It was still a gamble, but he had to know. He took several steps back and started running, then launched himself into the air. The ground between the two buildings seemed much further away than it had a moment ago. He landed, tucked and rolled to a stop, gun at the ready. His eyes sought any movement, but there was nothing. On his feet again, Tom opened the rooftop door and moved silently down the stairs. He emerged on the seventh floor, one floor above his room.

He had memorized the layout before he registered. He walked down the hallway and stop in front of a door. He knocked and waited to see if anyone answered. A minute passed and then another, satisfied the room was empty he quickly picked the lock and slipped inside. Two beds dominated the room. An open suitcase sat on one. The other had a disheveled slept in look. He moved slowly, just in case there was something still in here. He checked the bathroom, but it seemed the guest was out enjoying the town. Good, he thought, finally a break. He opened the sliding doors and stepped out onto the terrace. The cacophony of sound that was Hong Kong assaulted him.

It only took a moment before he saw the two black sedans turn the corner and race to the front of the building. Time was running short now. He moved along the wall of the terrace and then slipped over the side. It was an eight-foot drop to his hotel room balcony, but a lot further if he missed. He lowered himself, feeling with the toe of his shoe for the railing. His hand slipped and for just a moment he thought he was going to fall. He grabbed desperately for anything and found the cement block of the terrace floor. Twisting his body, he slipped down and over the ledge of his room. The black sedans were right in front of the hotel and men began to pour out of them and race inside. Quick but cautious he reminded himself.

Gun raised, safety off, he slowly opened the terrace sliding door. He waited, trying to hear anything over the wall of sound behind him. His ears finally picked up a soft moan. A trap he immediately thought, but he had to know. Slipping through the curtains, he had his gun level and ready. The moan came again and this time he identified it as coming from the bathroom. Sweeping the gun over the room, he moved over and opened the bathroom door. Sprawled on the floor was Kano, his contact. Blood was everywhere and the man was barely breathing. Tom holstered his gun and moved over to him.

"Tom."

The man's voice was barely a whisper.

"Quiet, let me see,' he replied, pulling the jacket away and then the shirt. Three bullet wounds to the chest, almost like a tilted smile oozed blood. He would be dead in moments.

"They found out, Tom."

"Shh, save your strength, Kano," Tom said. "We'll get you out of here."

"Too late, too late."

"Just hang on."

"The Council, Tom, they are part of this,' Kano rasped. "I brought the files, what I could, to help …"

The man's hand flopped to the side as he pointed to his briefcase. Tom glanced at it, but his focus was on Kano.

"Stay with me, Kano, stay with me!"

Tom looked at the man's eyes and saw the light was gone. He was dead. Damn it! I shouldn't have got him involved in this, Tom chastised himself. Someone is going to pay for this death, maybe a lot of someones.

The Council. The name brought a bitter taste to Tom's mouth. He seemed to be haunted by it. His older brother Craig had been an undercover agent infiltrating the group. They had brainwashed him and turned him into a killer. Other agents had been force to take Craig down in self-defense. The world believed his brother was a traitor and killer. That was when Tom became Nemesis. He thought he'd wiped out the Council, but apparently he was wrong. Now another man was dead.

The internal clock in Tom's head had been ticking and the seconds were running out. He reached up and closed Kano's eyes and made a silent promise to him that he would be avenged. Snapping up the briefcase, Tom turned off the light and headed for the terrace.

Moments later, the hotel room door was kicked open and five armed men came rushing in. They found only a dead body and an open sliding terrace door.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

The left jab caught Clark flush on the jaw. He rocked back on his heels and then dropped to the ground. Again. He lay there, breathing hard, sweat pouring off him, blood flowing from his nose, bruised and exhausted.

"That was a little better Kal, but your footwork still leaves a lot to be desired."

He glanced up to see Diana standing over him smiling. She hadn't even broken a sweat. He gave a dry laugh from deep in his throat and then muttered under his breath, 'bitch.'

"Did you say something Kal?"

"No."

"You're not getting tired are you? I feel like I could do this all day,' Diana informed him. "Unless you want to talk, that is?"

"No.'

"Have it your way."

She held out her hand to him and this time he took it. He was just a little too worn out not to. As he stood, he momentarily lost his balance and fell against her. There bodies pressed against each other and then faces were only millimeters apart. Diana seemed a little flustered and stepped back.

"When-Whenever you're ready,' she said.

Clark was stubborn, but after having his ass handed to him for more than an hour he could certainly see where this was going. He'd gotten in his best shot and she barely flinched. Alternatively, years of training and her gifts had him flat on his back more times than he could count. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this by fighting her, at least not fighting fair.

Her reaction to being close to him was something that interested him. Maybe there was another way to rattle the Princess. As he moved slowly to his left, keeping his guard up he decided to try another approach.

"So you said lots of men have hit on you,' he began. "Does that mean some of them have succeeded?"

She stiffened at the question and looked at him.

"Why?"

"I'll take that as a yes,' he said. "So doesn't that mean you and some of these men have, you know?"

"That's none of your business!" She snapped, throwing a left jab at him. He barely managed to dodge it.

"I thought you wanted to talk?"

"Not about that,' she replied.

"That means you have,' he said with a smirk. "Well, well, well, times certainly have changed."

Diana lowered her hands and took a step towards him. She was clearly not happy.

"And if I have, what of it?" She demanded.

Clark raised his hands in surrender.

"You said you wanted to talk, remember?"

"Why are you suddenly so interested in talking about my social life, Kal?"

"Because it makes you uncomfortable,' he replied, taking a step closer to her.

"At least I don't pay for it,' she fired back.

"You wound me,' he said in a mocking tone. "You know the old joke about the worst orgasm, don't you Diana? It is still really, really good."

"I see you've picked up your manners where you pick up your women." There was a clear challenge in her voice. She was irate with him. She took a step closer to him. They were only inches apart.

"Where do you pick up these men you've been with, Diana?"

"That is none of your business!"

"So now you don't want to talk,' he asked.

"Not about that! Something's are private, which I doubt you'd understand!"

"Actually, I agree with you 100%,' he replied. His voice was dead serious as he held her eyes with his own. "Some things are private. So private a person doesn't want to talk about them with anyone."

Diana immediately got the implication of his words. This had all been a set up to make a point and she had walked right into it.

"Kal…"

"We're done here, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"Thanks for the boxing lesson, Diana."

He brushed passed her and headed for the door.

* * *

><p>Tokyo – Japan<p>

The non-descript building sat just off the Ginza. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you would never find it. One of the placards on the front wall simply said, R$G Global Imports. It was a cover for the Agency. Tom Tresser was in one of the offices going over the details of Kano's death with two supervisors, Frasier and Sloan. The documents Kano had been carrying were spread out all over the table.

"So if the Council is in on this, it has to be big,' Tom explained.

"Bigger than you think, Tom."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Council is just a part of this,' Frasier explained. "Your information confirms it, but we already know that some of the Tongs and Yakuza are involved. It's drugs, guns, prostitution, all sorts of illegal activities in several Asian countries."

"I want in,' Tom flatly said. "I can work this undercover, you know I can."

Frasier looked at Sloan. He shook his head no.

"You can't cut me out of this!" Tom shouted. "This is my case!"

"And you're too close to it,' Frasier replied. "We all know what the Council did to your brother, Tom."

"That has nothing to do with it!"

"Doesn't it?"

Before Tom could answer, Sloan spoke up for the first time.

"There's also the matter of them expecting something and looking for you to try. Yes, I know you're a Master of Disguise, but they will be screening everyone from now on. We need someone that isn't connected in any way for this."

"I still say I'm the man,' Tom replied.

Frasier walked over and pulled out a stack of files and tossed them on the table in front of Tom.

"What's this?"

"The full file,' Frasier said. "You're not the only agent we have working on this remember? We've put together bits and pieces from a thousand different sources. Everyone that is remotely tied to this is in that file. Every lead we have has been a dead end, literally and figuratively. You aren't the man for this, Tom. I'm sorry."

Tom started to leaf through the file and then stopped at a familiar face. He picked up the photo and held it up for Frasier and Sloan to see.

"What can you tell me about him?"

The two men looked at each other, a little surprised by this.

"If you're thinking you could go in as him, forget it, Tom," Frasier said. "As of now, you're on backup with this case. Is that understood?'

"Yes, damn it,' Tom snarled. He wanted in on this in the worst way. "What if I can find someone to go in undercover? Could I work it from the background?"

Sloan and Frasier discussed this for a moment.

"All right, say you can, then yes you could,' Sloan finally replied.

"Okay, then tell me about him?"

He held up the photo again.

"Julian Grinka, French, age unknown his background is a little murky, but we think he is from somewhere in the south of France,' Frasier said. "He first popped up on our radar a long time ago, Saigon, during the war."

"Why didn't you arrest him?"

"Mr. Grinka is rather resourceful, Tom,' Sloan diplomatically said. "You've heard of Air America?"

"Yes."

"Grinka was some help to the C.I.A. with that."

"His one of ours?"

"No," Frasier said with a shake of his head. "Grinka is an independent agent if you will. He's got his hands in a lot of things, but he's unobtrusive. Nothing sticks to him. He's a dabbler. Likes to have his hands in all sorts of things."

"The more exotic and dangerous, the better,' Sloan added.

"Meaning?" Tom asked.

'Mr. Grinka was in Saigon right up to the fall,' Sloan explained. "It was chaos back then, no real authority as the US was pulling out, the South was collapsing and the North still hadn't taken over. It was a real wild west free for all. Mr. Grinka liked to stage sports for betting, serious betting."

"I know, I've seen the fights,' Tom replied.

"No, Tom, that's amateur stuff,' Sloan said. His voice was cold and deadly serious. "Imagine a smaller hall but just as crowded with high rollers. There's a table in the center and two men on opposite sides. On the table are one gun and one bullet. Bets are placed and then the bullet is loaded into the gun. The chamber is spun and then the first 'contestant' holds it up to his head, right here."

Sloan pointed his finger right at his temple.

"Click, he pulls the trigger,' Sloan continued. "If it is an empty chamber, more betting and then the other 'contestant' takes his turn. This goes on until one man loses."

"Russian roulette,' Tom gasped. Sloan nodded.

"There was a lot of money made right up until the North marched in. Grinka somehow just slipped away and a year later he turned up in Thailand,' Sloan replied. "That's Julian Grinka, Tom."

The room was silent as Tom took this all in. He finally looked at Frasier and Sloan.

"I think I know someone that can get inside."

"How?"

"Mr. Julian Grinka will invite him in."

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

The rain had started and it soaked everything. Clark stood on the patio of the Togo Island Bar drinking a beer and staring out into the rain. His shirt was soaked to his skin, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Kal?"

He turned to see Diana standing just at the edge of the patio.

"About earlier…" She started to say but he stopped her.

"I'm sorry, Diana. What I said, that was….uncalled for. I know you were just trying to help."

"Yes, I am,' she replied, stepping out in to the rain and standing next to him. "I want to apologize too. I some times push harder than I should. I guess I'm used to getting what I want."

"Yeah, I remember that,' he said with a smile. She grinned and bumped her shoulder against his.

"I'm not that bad."

"Okay, if you say so."

He bumped her back with his shoulder and smiled. She smiled and glanced down. She saw the drink in his hand and her grin turned into a frown.

"It's a little early, isn't it?"

"Just can't help yourself some times, can you?" His smile got a little bigger. "Its just beer, Diana. Some times the water isn't the best around here."

"Oh, of course, sorry."

"Would you like one?"

She was a littler surprised by the question. She rarely drank beer, hardly ever.

"Yes."

Clark signaled for two more and they arrived almost immediately. He handed her one and held up his bottle.

"To old friends."

"To old friends."

They clinked bottles and then took a swallow. They stood next to each other just quietly watching the rain.


	13. Chapter 13

Horse Latitudes

Phuket - Thailand

Days slip into nights turn into days. Best intentions only count for so much. Patterns reemerge. Clark stood in the ring ready for another fight. The lure wasn't the money; it was the excitement, the feeling and the sensation. He might have made an uneasy peace with his past, but that left him with nothing. It had been over a year and with each passing day that former life seemed almost like it was lived by someone else. Seeing Diana had reminded him of the life before that and it was like watching an old movie on television. That world looked familiar and he remembered it, but it seemed entirely disconnected from where he was now.

Hero, husband, father, he'd been all of them but not anymore. What he was now, he wasn't sure. It was as if all the pain and loss had cauterized the wounds, but now nothing seemed to get in for very long. Flashes, fleeting moments of being alive seemed all there was left. So he was back in the ring. Later he would break down and visit Suzette. Tonight he would feel something. Tonight he would be alive.

* * *

><p>Gotham Memorial Hospital<p>

Flowers seemed like such a hollow gesture, but Bruce brought them anyway. He checked with reception and found out the room number. On the elevator ride up he tried to think of something positive to say, but came up with nothing. As he exited on the floor, he noticed Renee Montoya waiting for the other elevator. He started to say something, but she seemed deep in thought. Bruce let her be and walked down the hallway. He stopped in front of room 420 and took a deep breath. He pushed it open and stepped inside. Vic Sage was lying on the bed. Tubes seemed to be coming out of every part of his body. He was thin, much too thin and looked exhausted. He was dying of cancer. He stirred when he saw Bruce.

"This is unexpected,' Vic said. He gave a small smile, but then the cough robbed him of even that. Bruce stepped over and set the flowers down with the others. He waited until Vic got the cough under control and caught his breath.

"That wears me out,' Vic admitted. He gestured to the chair. "Have a seat, that's what chairs are for."

Bruce tried to smile as he took a seat.

"How are you doing?"

He already knew the answer, but it was one of those things you feel obligated to say.

"I'm dying, Bruce."

"I know."

"Seems strange,' Vice mused. "After all this time, the conspiracy that got me was the one everyone knows, cigarettes. Christ, they even put a warning right on the pack."

"What have the doctors told you?"

"Oh, lots of things, but the bottom line is the same, prognosis negative."

"Isn't there some treatment?"

"Radiation, chemo, but those are long shots,' Vic replied.

Bruce nodded, but didn't say anything. He'd already checked on all of it, but it didn't seem real until he actually heard it from the man himself.

"Is there anything I can do? Money? Anything?"

"I appreciate the offer, but everything is taken care of," Vic stated. "Eventually, you just have to face reality and make some hard decisions. I've done some planning ahead"

Bruce was about to speak again, but the door opened. Helena stood there for a moment, just looking at Vic. She looked as if she had been crying.

"Bruce."

She acknowledged him, but her eyes never left Vic. Bruce knew all about these two's on again off again relationship. Both were so different, so idiosyncratic, yet it seemed to work for them, once and awhile. Tactfully, he stood up and moved away from the bed.

"I've got to be going, so I'll leave you two,' he offered. "Keeping fighting, Vic."

"I appreciate you stopping, Bruce."

He nodded and then slipped out of the room, leaving them alone.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Thailand<p>

Diana stood in the back of the hall. Two and a half weeks had passed since she was last in this country. She was a bundle of nerves and felt better on her feet than confined to a seat. The last time she was here they had parted on better terms. She didn't think she would be back. Diana had finally said what she wanted to say. He declined again, but thanked her. There was really nothing more that could be said or done. She accepted this. She didn't like it, but she accepted it. Some paths you have to walk alone.

She returned to Washington. A career and life she had built were waiting. As she got back into the routine of things though, the restlessness came again. Diana found her mind wandering during meetings. Receptions and galas held little interested. Dinner with Tom had been awkward. They both seemed to have other things on their mind. When he invited her back to his apartment, she declined. It was a small lie, but she told him she was tired. He seemed to accept it. They spoke on the phone, but hadn't seen each other since.

It had been late at night. The Embassy had long since closed for the day. Diana couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind seemingly going a million miles an hour. Restless, she tossed back the covers and just lay there staring at the ceiling. As the thoughts drifted in and out, they seemed to coalesce around one idea. She wanted to see him again.

Perhaps when she had first emerged into the world she could have convinced herself it was just to see if he used any of the tactics she taught him. She might have been able to tell herself she wanted to try one more time to reach him, but 13 years had stripped away many illusions. No matter how difficult the truth was she had learned not to deceive herself. Diana finally admitted that her motives were far from heroic, but oh so human.

She wanted him.

It made no sense; he'd basically been an absolute jackass to her 95% of the time, yet lying there alone she couldn't deny it.

She wanted him. The truth was that plain and simple.

She knew it was wrong and totally out of character for her. She was a Champion of her people, an Ambassador, a senior member of the Justice League and a role model for many. She was already in a relationship with a good man, Tom. She had a life and career she had painstakingly built over many years. She was comfortable and content with how things were.

Yet still she wanted him.

Perhaps it wasn't even him, she thought. The restlessness that been there even before she learned he was alive. Looking back, maybe his disappearance had been the trigger. She was still so new at all of this, then he was gone and suddenly she had to shoulder so much. The newly founded League needed someone fill the void he'd left and she was the natural choice. Duty, responsibility, honor, these were things that had been impressed upon her from an early age. She wasn't just an ordinary person; she was heir to the throne and Champion of both her Gods and sisters.

It left so little time for a private life. Diana needed to be a leader and even though she was basically a novice, she accepted this role. As the years went by, she had slowly carved out time just for her. It progressed with fits and starts, but slowly she learned and grew. She started dating and even thought she'd fallen in love a time or two. Diana met her share of disappointments and those were the most difficult times. She had learned to be cautious, careful with those she finally became intimate with. Not just to protect them but herself as well.

She was a beautiful woman. To deny it would be false modesty. She had been pursued practically from the moment she arrived by countless men and many women as well. Why she wanted him was something of a mystery. Yes he was handsome, but she had met many handsome men before. It certainly wasn't his manners, she thought, he was rude, obnoxious and infuriating most of the time. Just remembering how he had closed the door in her face not once but twice still annoyed her to no end.

As strange as it sounded, maybe that was the reason she wanted him. When they were together, he seemed to be able to stir the passions so easily inside her. It seemed impossible to be indifferent when she was around him. Normally Diana was calm, logical and controlled with just about everyone. With him, one moment she wanted to slap his face and the next she wanted … she wanted him.

There it was, the plain truth she thought. For once it wasn't her being pursued, but her doing the pursuing. She tried telling herself how wrong it was. It wasn't like her at all. Yes, she enjoyed sex but it hadn't preoccupied her like this before. It made no sense she kept telling herself, but the desire was still there. She wanted to have sex with him. Wrong, wrong, she thought, she was already involved with Tom. It would be a betrayal of his trust. It would be a betrayal of everything she believed in and stood for, yet once she admitted the feeling she couldn't let it go. It was selfish, she thought, but for once she wanted to be selfish. For once she didn't want to be responsible, proper or worried about whether this was the right thing or not. She just wanted him.

So here she was, back in Phuket, again. For once she hadn't completely thought it all out in advance. She had formulated something of a plan, but now that she was actually here she had her doubts. She was nervous. The thought kept running through her mind, am I actually going to seduce Kal? The surprising answer was yes, she was. It was something she'd never done before. Frankly, she never had to before. Usually all she had to do was say yes. As she thought about what she was going to do, it created a rather naughty thrill within her that just added to the excitement.

She paced back and forth her mind going over and over her strategy. She was dressed in a conservative black suit and white blouse, but she had brought another dress for later. It was unlike anything she would normally wear, but when she saw it she knew it would be perfect. Another thrill went through her when she thought about him seeing her in it for the first time.

Suddenly the chant went up.

**"HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE!"**

The fight was about to start. She continued to think about later, but her focus was on the ring. She wanted him to win, desperately. A win would make later even more of a celebration.

* * *

><p>Gotham – Wayne Tower<p>

Bruce sat in his office. In front of him on his desk were reports, projections and future proposals, but they remained unread. He was waiting for Dick to arrive. Bruce had been putting this meeting off for months, but he knew it had to be done. It was too important to wait any longer. The intercom buzzed and his secretary announced that Dick had arrived. Bruce said to send him in. He stood as the door to his office opened and Dick Grayson entered. They smiled at each other, but the tension was always there these days. 38 and 25 were so close in the over all scheme of things, but a lifetime in their business. Dick moved with a fluid grace that seemed innate, perhaps something of a hold over from the family business.

"Bruce."

"Thanks for coming, Dick."

Bruce moved around his desk and extended his hand. Dick hesitated just a moment before taking it.

"I was a little surprised by the call, but it sounded serious,' Dick replied. "Why here at Wayne Towers of all places?"

The handshake was over. Bruce gestured towards the desk and the chairs in front of it.

"Have a seat,' Bruce said. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Water?"

"No, I'm fine."

Dick took one of the chairs as Bruce moved back around the desk and sat down. They looked at each other for a moment.

"So?"

Bruce had been thinking on how to do this for some time, but he felt some things had to be said before they could get to the main reason.

"First, I wanted to apologize,' he began. "You and I, we've had our issues in the past. This estrangement between us isn't something I wanted."

Dick was a little surprised, but he didn't show it.

"That's just the way things go sometimes."

Bruce nodded in agreement.

"Yes, that's true, but still it needed to be said."

Dick sat forward just a bit more as his curiosity was peaked.

"It happens in the best of families, Bruce,' Dick said with a smile.

"Family,' Bruce repeated. "I'm glad you put it that way, because in a way that's why I asked you to come."

"Oh?"

Bruce had decided to just come straight out with it. Dick would see through any subterfuge or obfuscation anyway.

"Yes, I do think of us as family, Dick, I hope you know that?"

"Yes but still, it's nice to hear."

"It's true. As family, I wanted to ask, no request something from you,' Bruce said.

"Okay."

"Batman."

It was out there on the table now. The name meant so many different things to both men. So much of both their lives were interwoven with it. Their differences and estrangement were also tied in as well. Bruce could see Dick stiffen at just the mention of the name.

"I want you to be Batman,' Bruce flatly stated.

"There already is a Batman, as we both know,' Dick replied.

"Yes and I'd like for there to continue to be a Batman."

"What is going on, Bruce?"

Dick was on his feet pacing. This was a shot out of the blue. He didn't know what to think or say.

"There is going to be a time when I can't do it anymore, Dick and when that time comes, I want you to take over."

Dick laughed. It wasn't a happy sound, but more of regret and bitterness.

"You're never going to give up being Batman, Bruce. Its who you are."

"It might not be my choice, Dick."

This stopped Dick in his tracks. He moved over to the desk, the concern plain on his face.

"What? Are you ill? Is that what this is about?"

"No, but I'm 38, Dick and 40 will be here before I know it."

"You're in the physical condition of a 20 year old, Bruce,' Dick scoffed. "What's the real reason for all this?"

"Just what I said,' Bruce replied. "Yes, you're right, I'm physically fine right now, but for how much longer? You know better than anyone the toll this life takes on a body. You strip away all the myths and stories and I'm just a man, Dick. Men get old. That's one battle you can't win."

"Where is this coming from?"

Dick still didn't believe they were having this conversation. He was stunned and shocked more than anything. Bruce stood up and turned to look out the windows at the city.

"You heard about Question, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course, it was a shock, but there is still hope,' Dick replied.

"Lung cancer, Dick, we both know the odds aren't good. The point is this life isn't kind to old men. All the training in the world can't stop time; it catches up to all of us. Tomorrow's certainly not guaranteed, especially in this life. I wanted to have this conversation now, so that when it happens I'll know someone will take my place. I want that person to be you Dick, I always have."

Dick sat back down, the weight of all of this overwhelming to him. He finally looked up and saw Bruce was watching him.

"I can't be you, Bruce,' Dick honestly replied.

"That isn't what I'm asking. We've had this discussion so many times, but I think it needs repeating. The idea behind the Batman is a symbol. If you agree, I would want you to make it your own, not mine."

"I don't have an answer for you, Bruce,' Dick said.

"That's all right, just think about it, please?'

"All right."

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

Diana winced and groaned along with him. Every blow, each kick or shot, she reacted as if she were in the ring. It was nerve racking just watching, much more than if she were in the fight herself. She couldn't seem to stand still. Part of her wanted to rush down to ringside and berate him about forgetting everything she tried to show him. Had he not been listening to a word I said, she wondered?

"Hera help me, Kal, hit him!" She shouted. Absently she thought he was probably doing this just to infuriate her, but quickly dismissed this idea. He didn't even know she was there yet. It would be just like him though.

"He's leaving himself open for the counter, Kal, left hook! Left Hook!"

Oh, it was useless, she thought, Kal's footwork was still atrocious. As she continued pacing, Diana ran her hand over her face and was surprised she was sweating. She was so keyed up she was perspiring. She rarely perspired, certainly not when she was just watching someone else fight. She should have been happy his fight was taking so long; it gave her more time to plan what she would do later. The problem was she couldn't concentrate on anything except him being beaten up, again.

"Oh, if you lose this fight, I'm going to kill you, Kal!' She shouted as he went down to the canvass. He got back up and she gave a sigh of relief. Diana slipped off her jacket as the hall felt oppressive hot. Several of those close by looked at her, but she paid them no attention. He just had to win, she thought. Her whole plan rested on him winning.

For probably the 40th time since the fight started she pulled out a pen and paper from her pocket. She wanted to send a note down to the ring once he won letting him know she was there. She gone through so many drafts trying different tones, but nothing seemed quite right. She tried flirty and then sexy, but frowned as she read back what she wrote. Crumbling up each draft she tossed it in the wastebasket and started over.

_"Come up to my hotel room and we'll celebrate! D-"_

No, no, no, she thought, that sounded a little whorish, plus it didn't fit into what she had already worked out for later. She crumbled it up and tossed it with the others. She started to write something else, but her attention was drawn back to the fight. As she watched him circle his opponent, Diana had the feeling he was about to strike. He finally seemed to have the measure of the man. It took him long enough, she thought, but she was on her tiptoes, as she knew the moment was coming. The opponent missed and Diana saw the opening.

"Now, Kal, now,' she whispered.

His right shot out and caught his opponent square on the jaw. The man immediately went down. He didn't get up. The hall burst out in the chant.

**"HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE! HORSE!"**

Diana was jumping for joy. She even hugged a few of the people closest to her. He won! Suddenly she remembered the note. Glancing down at the ring she saw people climbing in to celebrate with him. He would be gone if she didn't get a message to him now. Scribbling as fast as she could, Diana handed the note and ten dollars to a young boy. He raced down the aisle and climbed into the ring. Diana watched from slightly behind a pillar, wanting to see Kal's reaction.

Clark felt the thrill racing through his blood. He felt alive. All his senses seemed on fire, heightened to the fullest. Endorphins surged through his system, creating a natural high better than any drug. He glanced down at ringside and saw Suzette smiling up at him. Another kind of excitement began. He as exhausted, bruised and bleeding, but he felt alive. That was all that mattered.

He felt a tug on his shorts and glanced down to see a young boy holding up a note for him. It simply said, Kal. He thanked the boy and opened it.

_"Kal, congratulations! I knew you'd win! I'm staying at the Hilton. I hope you might stop by if you can. Diana."_

His eyes immediately scanned the crowd for her, but in the bedlam he couldn't spot her. He hadn't expected to see her again and wondered why she was here.

* * *

><p>Phuket - Andakira Hotel<p>

Tom set on his balcony drinking a glass of ice water. It was sunset and the colors over the water were breathtaking. His mind was elsewhere. Since learning the news that the Council was involved, he'd thought of little else. He was going to take them down once and for all, no matter what. He owed them that for what they did to his brother, Craig.

Tom idolized his older brother growing up. He wanted to be like him so badly he'd even joined the Agency following in Craig's footsteps. If he needed a role model, he couldn't ask for a better one than his brother. Craig was an honest, decent man, fighting the good fight. The Council had robbed him of all of that. They had even destroyed his family name before their manipulation killed Craig.

Tom had stood over his brother's coffin and vowed to him that he would get vengeance on everyone that was involved. He would clear Craig's name and their family name. Craig wasn't a traitor, but that was what everyone believed. Tom became Nemesis that day. He dedicated his life to making things right. He thought he'd finally succeeded and won, but now they were back.

If the agency wouldn't let him go in, he would find someone to go in for him. Clark Kent was just the man. Tom knew this would cause trouble between Diana and him, but he didn't feel he had a choice. Yes, he only knew about Kent because of Diana, but now that he did, Kent was too well placed not to use him.

It was business, nothing personal, Tom told himself. Whatever feelings Diana had for Kent took a backseat to Tom's need for vengeance against those responsible for Craig's death. It wasn't jealousy, it wasn't he told himself. It was simply a matter of identifying an asset and using it. Kent's relationship with Julian Grinka was the key.

It was business, nothing personal, Tom repeated. He almost believed it.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Hilton<p>

Clark walked into the lobby feeling a little underdressed. He was wearing cargo pants and a white shirt. He'd showered and his clothes were clean, but everyone else was better dressed. He asked at the desk for Diana and the woman smiled and handed him a note.

She certainly likes writing notes, he absently thought. He thanked the woman and opened it.

_"Kal, I'll be down in a few minutes. I'll meet you in the lounge. Diana."_

That seemed unusual for her, but he glanced around and spotted the lounge. A drink did sound good, so he made his way over.

Upstairs, Diana was finishing changing. She was nervous and excited. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror she appraised how she looked. She smiled at what she saw. She looked damn sexy if she said so herself. The red dress she had on was a little more daring than what she would normally wear. It was backless, with a thin ribbon that tied behind her neck. There was center slit in the front that went from her throat to just below her breasts. It certainly hinted at what lie underneath. It ended several inches above her knee. Usually she preferred a longer length, but she liked how this showed off her legs.

She wore no additional jewelry. Her hair was down; the natural curls brushing against her shoulders. She had on heels, something she rarely wore, as most men were already shorter than her. They certainly seemed to highlight her tone, shapely calves. A smile came to her face as she thought he wouldn't know what hit him. A thrill went through her as she pictured him seeing her for the first time. If this is what it felt like to seduce someone, she liked it.

Picking up her small clutch, she opened the door and headed down towards the lounge.

As she exited the elevator, Diana could feel every eye on her. It felt as if little electrical ripples were moving all over her skin. As she walked to the entrance of the lounge, she could already picture his reaction. She stepped over the threshold and stopped, waiting for him to see her. He was at the bar with his back to her. Everyone turned and looked, except him.

Diana rolled her eyes and sighed. He would be the only man not looking. He was so infuriating at times!

"Kal!"

He was just raising the martini glass to his lips as he turned. The glass stopped when he saw her. Diana smiled, as this was more the reaction she was looking for. He set the glass down on the bar and just stood there, as if he were taking in the vision in front of him. Slowly she walked towards him. He was dressed much more casual then the others in the bar, but he looked very good, she thought. They held each other's eyes as she moved up next to him. The entire bar had gone silent as all eyes were on her.

"I'm glad you could make it, Kal."

"You look spectacular, Diana."

"Thank you."

"Um can I buy you a drink?'

"Yes, whatever you're having."

He signaled the bartender for two more, but then turned back to look at her. He wasn't sure he had the words for how amazing she looked. He'd always know she was beautiful, but she had an innocent, almost ethereal quality to her back in the day. Now standing in front of him she was an adult, flesh and blood woman fully aware of just how stunning she truly was. She looked devastatingly sexy and his body reacted accordingly.

"Congratulations on the fight, Kal."

She smiled and took a sip from her drink.

"Thank you."

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"No, I've just have never seen you look like this before,' he replied.

"Don't you like it?"

There was a playful note to her voice and he didn't miss it.

"No, I like it, I definitely like it, I'm just wondering why?"

Diana took another sip and then licked her lips. She could tell his eyes took all this in.

"I thought we could celebrate your victory,' she offered. "Don't you usually celebrate when you win?"

"Yes."

Clark was frankly thrown by all of this. The note had surprised him, but that was nothing compared to seeing her. When she licked her lips, ever so slowly, it was like a shock to his system. He had never seen her so sensual, so alluring. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was trying to seduce him. The very idea was astonishing, but also very tempting.

"So how did you imagine we'd celebrate?" He asked. The thought that she wanted to be with him was just too tempting not to play along. He thought it was just some fantasy, but then she kissed him. It was a good kiss, a very good kiss.

"Does that answer your question?" She whispered once the kiss had ended. Her voice had a soft, sultry quality to it that sent shivers down his spine.

"Diana, I don't …" He started to say, but she pressed her index finger to his lips to stop him.

"I know what I want, Kal,' she whispered. "I want this. I want you."

He was at a complete loss for words. She stepped back, holding his hand.

"I don't think we need those drinks, do we?"

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she led him out of the lounge and to the elevator. It arrived moments later and they stepped inside. The moment the doors closed he pulled her to him. He wanted her. His lips hungrily found hers, as his strong arms slipped around her slender body pulling her closer. It was a bruising kiss and Diana felt it more than any kiss she had before. The desire flared within her and she returned his kiss. One kiss led to another and another. The ride up in the elevator was only filled with the sound of their kisses and hands moving over each other's clothes. It was over too soon as they arrived at her floor.

Diana stepped away with a tempting smile and pulled him along towards her room. She fumbled with her key card for just a moment, but then opened the door and pulled him inside. As soon as the door closed they were in each other's arms again. Diana felt more alive and aroused than she could remember feeling. Thoughts of the Embassy or the League disappeared as she ran her hands over his lean, muscular body. This was even better than she had imagined it would be.

Clark felt the flames of desire burning inside of him. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers. He kissed and caressed her spectacular body, the need growing with each passing moment. The world seemed to slip away and she became his complete focus.

Diana pulled away from him and slowly reached up and undid the ribbons holding up her dress. She slowly let it slip down revealing her body to him. She wore nothing underneath. She could see the raw lust in his eyes and it just added to her excitement. As he moved towards her, she reached for the buttons on his shirt. She got two open before ripping it the rest of the way. A purr came from deep in her throat as she ran her fingers over his muscular chest.

Clark couldn't wait any longer. He wanted her desperately. He picked her up and carried her towards the bed. Diana circled her legs around his waist, kissing him, her tongue flicking teasingly between his open lips. He eased them both down to the bed, never breaking contact. He kissed her lips hard and then slowly began to trail kisses down her neck and shoulder.

Diana smiled and gave a little moan. The intense excitement of the moment was tempered by just a hint of disappointment. The foreplay had been so good, so passionate she hungered for more, but that wasn't to be. All her previous experiences had taught her, as much as she wanted to get lost in the moment, she couldn't. As the sensations continued to build, she became more passive, willing herself to remain relaxed and in control. It all felt so very good, so tempting, but she couldn't let herself go any further. There would be pleasure, but it wouldn't match the build up. She let herself relax and closed her eyes.

She purred and moaned as his lips and touch sent erotic tremors through her body. She could feel his strong hands and body much more than any man she had been with before. It just added to her excitement. She lay there smiling and enjoying it, but then he stopped.

"Don't stop, Kal."

Usually that was all she needed to say to urge her lover on, but he didn't continue. Diana finally opened her eyes and saw him leaning on one hand just looking down at her in confusion.

"Kal?"

"What's going on, Diana?"

His confusion was real. She had been so passionate and assertive all the way to this point and then something changed. It was as if she flicked a switch and turned it all off. She just lay there passively, as if the fire had gone out.

"What-What do you mean?" She asked. Suddenly she was very aware that she was naked and pulled the sheet over to cover herself.

"Did you change your mind?"

"No! Why did you stop, it was nice,' she offered.

"Nice? Seriously? It was nice?"

"Yes."

Now anger was added to his confusion. Nice, it was nice she'd said he repeated to himself. He shifted away from her and sat up. Diana rolled onto her side and reach for him.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I think this was a mistake,' he replied.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know what the hell is going on with you. Nice, really?"

"Damn it, Kal what's so wrong with nice?' She asked, getting a little irritated with him. "I liked what you were doing and it felt nice, okay?"

Nice again, he grumbled to himself.

"So you could feel my touching you and it was nice, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, for the most part."

He was livid. Suddenly he reached over and gave her a hard smack on her ass.

"Ow!" Diana gasped and jumped.

"So could you feel that too,' he asked with a hard smile. "Was that nice?"

"Yes I could feel that, can you feel this!" She hauled off and slapped him hard across the face. He rubbed his jaw, his brain a little rattled from the slap. She changed again, he thought, now she's the fiery, passionate woman once more. What was going on with her, he wondered?

"Yeah, I felt that,' he finally said.

"Good!"

Diana was hot and not in the good way. While his smack hadn't really hurt her, it did sting. She sat up and pushed herself back against the headboard of the bed. She wrapped the sheet around her, covering herself.

"This was a mistake,' he said.

"Yes it is!" She shouted in reply. "You are such a jackass sometimes, Kal!"

"Definitely a mistake,' he said, standing up and redoing his pants. "I don't know what is up with you, Diana, but I came up here to make love to a woman, a passionate beautiful woman, not a dead fish!"

Blood surged to Diana's cheeks as she was boiling now. She gasped and then sputtered, not believing he had just said that.

"Dead-Dead fish! Are-Are you suggesting I-I'm a dead fish?"

"Well if the name fits,' he sarcastically replied. "One minute you're eager and active and the next you're just laying there, like a dead fish!"

"Stop calling me that! Oh, this was definitely a mistake!' Diana shouted. She was on the knees on the bed now, glaring at him. "I was trying to protect you, you idiot!"

"Protect me from what?"

"Me hurting you, although now I'm starting to regret that decision!"

"Diana, I might have lost all those powers, but I'm still a Kryptonian, that's never going to change,' he replied. "We're a lot harder to break than an average human."

"Would you care to put that theory to the test?" She challenged.

"What are you going to do, passively lay there until I go to sleep?"

"GET OUT!" She screamed. Diana was so angry she wanted to throw something, preferably at him. She grabbed first thing she could get her hands on. Unfortunately it was a pillow and bounced harmlessly off him. He just looked at her for a moment and then left. Diana knelt there on the bed livid. She wanted to punch something, him to be exact. Finally she just screamed in frustration and dropped back on the bed. Oh, he is without a doubt the most infuriating man she had ever met!

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand – Later<p>

Clark was still pissed as he made his way back to his hotel. Nice! Why not just kick him in the groin while she's at it? She was without a doubt the most confusing, most irritating woman he had ever met! He was still grumbled to himself as he put the key into the lock on his door and opened it. He stopped immediately in his tracks as a gun was pointed at him.

"Hello, Mr. Kent,' Tom said. "I think we have some things to talk about."

"You need a gun to talk?" Clark asked.

"I wanted your full attention."

"Mission accomplished.

"Close the door and sit down, please,' Tom said. "I have a story to tell you and I think you'll be interested."


	14. Chapter 14

Perspectives

"The world only exists to you from your perspective"

Phuket – Thailand

It was a mild evening as the heat of the day had finally relinquishing its hold. Julian sat comfortably watching the night's traffic. He had a small fan he absently waved now and then to move the still air. In front of him on the table were a small assortment of olives and cheeses. A bottle of Limoncello and an Aperitif glass were to the side. He nonchalantly poured half a glass and placed an olive in his mouth. A smile spread over his lips as he swallowed first the olive and then a mouthful of Limoncello. He seemed completely a peace with the world.

If at this moment you had sat down across from him and said bluntly, _Julian, you are a bad man_, he wouldn't have flashed his temper, but smiled and politely disagreed. He would tell you perhaps from your point of view, he was a bad man, but that was just a matter of perspectives.

What is a bad man, he would ask you?

Suppose as we sit here, suddenly police and fire trucks come rushing up and stop right in front of us. As we look up, he would continue, we see a man standing on the top ledge of that building opposite us. Neither of us has ever seen him before and the authorities are already on the scene. Would we be bad men if we didn't rush over to help save the man? What if the man jumped while the authorities were trying to talk him down and we just sat here? Your answer, depending on your perspective might be yes or no, but that doesn't make us bad men, does it?

_You reply that no, it probably didn't make you bad men, but didn't make you good men, either._

He would smile and take another sip of the Limoncello, perhaps cut off a small piece of cheese.

What if while the man was on the ledge, one of us for whatever reason shouted jump and then the man later did? Would that make us bad men? Would just shouting jump make us bad men? The man on the ledge might not have even heard us. He probably has already decided on his decision and shouting did nothing.

_Again you might protest that it certainly didn't make you good man, but probably didn't make you truly bad man._

Julian would smile and nodded as if in agreement. He would take another sip of Limoncello and perhaps even offer you a glass. You'd probably decline cause he is a bad man. With a small fork he would take another olive and place it in his mouth before continuing.

All right, he would say, taking the same situation, the man on the ledge, what if this time instead of shouting jump, I turned to you and offered to bet 1000 dollars that the man would jump? If you took my bet, would that make you a bad man?

_Yes, you would say, yes that would be crossing a line, betting on another human being's life and it would make you a bad man._

Why Julian would ask? Our bet isn't known by the man on the ledge and would have no affect on whether he jumps or not? Whatever happened was going to happen anyway, whether we bet or not. Plus you would be betting that the man doesn't jump and lived. Why would that make us both bad men?

_Because it would be exploiting human tragedy for our own profit, you might reply. It was morally wrong._

Doesn't the media do that everyday, Julian might counter? People are murdered and the media shows the aftermath, the police tape, the location, and the grieving families as the lead to the newscast. What does that really add to the story? It's just a random house you've never seen before, but they still show it and you still watch. Their rating go up and they make more money. How is that different?

_Now you're a little flustered. He remains completely calm, continuing with his food and drink. You probably try to defend the media, saying they are just reporting on what has happened. By showing the scene they are giving it context for the viewer._

Perhaps this time he doesn't even argue, just shrugs, cuts off a piece of another piece of cheese and eats it. You feel a little better, thinking you won that point.

What if the man on the ledge is a bad man, Julian asks?

_What do you mean, you reply?_

What if the man standing on the ledge has killed people, several people, Julian explains. Would you still be bad if you yelled jump or bet on whether he jumps or not?

_Yes._

Again Julian would ask why? The man is bad by your standards and deserves to be punished, doesn't he?

_Yes, you would admit._

So if he jumps and dies he is receiving his just punishment, correct?

_You suppose, you admit, but it wouldn't make you actions right._

Again, Julian would ask why? Your actions, yelling or betting wouldn't really have a direct connection with the outcome. The man would either jump or not jump entirely of his own decision. You would have nothing tangible to do with it, just like when you watch the media report on a crime scene.

_But that's different you might protest. We're here right where it is happening. We're betting on another human's life._

So it's a matter of distance and location, Julian would ask?

_No, that's not what you mean, you would counter, it is just wrong._

If you say so, Julian would remark with a smile. He takes another sip of the Limoncello and then glances up at the ledge across the street.

What if one of the people the bad man on the ledge killed was very dear to you, Julian asked? The man had killed your wife or child, would it still be wrong to wish him dead or to even bet on him jumping?

_This caught you off guard. You protest that the odds of that happening are infinitesimal.  
><em>

Imagine it did though, Julian persists.

_You would probably admit you didn't know how you would feel in that case. If the man had really killed someone you loved your natural instinct would be to want him to pay for it. You would want justice done.  
><em>

An eye for an eye the good book says, Julian might offer.

_Yes, you finally admit you would probably want the man to die for killing your loved one, but to bet on it still seems wrong._

Forget betting for a moment, Julian would say with a wave of his hand. He would take another olive and eat it then continue. So the man deserves to die for what he did, yes?

_You agree._

Julian leans towards you the smile gone as his cold hard gaze hold you in it's thrall. What if we take the same scenario except this time there are not police, no fireman, no witnesses, but instead you are on the roof with the bad man on the ledge. He's still killed your loved one; he's a bad man. Up until this point you've taken only a passive, uninvolved role in all of this. Now though, you are right there, a few feet away from him, the bad man, the killer of those you love. He's precariously close to the edge; it would take but the smallest push with only your fingertips to send him over. Would you truly be a bad man if you gave him that push? He killed your loved one, shouldn't you make him pay?

_No that would be wrong, you reply. Taking another's life is never justified, even in this case._

Really?

Julian seems surprised by you answer. He refills both your glasses with the Limoncello and then continued.

What if, Julian offers, while you are standing up there, just the two of you, the bad man is taunting you. He's telling you how much he enjoyed killing your loved one. He says when he gets down he's going to do it again, to someone else you love. Would you really be a bad man if you put an end to his evil and pushed him? He's killed already and his threatening to kill again, shouldn't you stop him? Wouldn't you be morally right in stop him?

_Now you're not sure what to think. The scenario he has painted doesn't seem as cut and dry as it did originally. If the man on the ledge really killed your loved one and was threatening to kill again, would it be so wrong to stop him? You're not sure if that would make you a bad man. Finally you admit this to him._

Julian smiles and takes another piece of cheese.

So given all that, let's say I'm right where I am now watching all of it. I turn to another man, and offer to bet him 1000 dollars whether the bad man will fall, does that make me a bad man, Julian asked?

_Yes, you reply._

A triumphant smile would come over Julian's face.

You just killed a man, while I only bet on it, Julian would say. Who is truly the bad man, you or I?

_You would suddenly realize as you sat there looking at his calm, satisfied face, Julian Grinka wasn't just a bad man; he was a very dangerous man._

* * *

><p>Phuket – Clark's Hotel Room<p>

Clark closed the door and slowly took the seat opposite the man with the gun pointed at his chest. While his main focus was on the gun, he did manage to get a good look at the man behind it. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater that had a balance at the center and a chest holster. Clark knew instinctively this man was a professional. He was calm and cold as ice, his eyes never wavering from Clark. On the bare table between them was an open bottle of whiskey, one glass and a plain manila folder that sat directly in front of the man. Clark also thought he recognized him.

"We've met before, haven't we, Mr.?' Clark asked.

"Nemesis, you can call me Nemesis, Mr. Kent, and yes we have met before,' Tom replied. "But that was in another lifetime. Don't concern yourself with that now. What you need to be focusing on is right this moment, right now. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say your life depends on you keeping all your focus on right now."

Clark slowly nodded. He knew he should be afraid, as this man was obviously a professional and would kill him without a second thought, yet somehow he wasn't. He felt more of a detached indifference than anything else. Part of him actually thought so this is how it finally ends; gunned down in a cheap hotel by a man that was a stranger to him. Clark could even picture himself lying on the floor, his life and blood oozing away until there was nothing. Instead of panic, there was only a calm that came over him. He reached for the bottle. Nemesis' thumb instantly pulled the hammer back cocking the gun.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I assumed the bottle was for me,' Clark replied.

"Yes, it is, but slowly, very slowly."

Clark picked the bottle slowly and poured himself a full glass. Nemesis smiled.

"That's right, you're quite the drinker, aren't you, Kent? You really love the stuff, don't you?"

Clark took a long swallow before replying.

"Is that why you're here, to tell me I drink too much?"

The smile vanished from Tom's face. Kent had surprised him just a little, but he was still in control of this situation. Maybe it was some vague thought that Superman was going to walk in the door that unsettled Tom just a bit. He reminded himself that the man sitting across from him wasn't Superman, not anymore. He was just a guy that had a terrible tragedy in his life and climbed into a bottle. The man sitting across from Tom wasn't a hero, but could still be an asset.

This was the closest he'd been to Clark and he took in the measure of him. He was still a rather impressive figure Tom had to admit. Tall, lean, handsome, he could certainly understand why Dia-women would be attracted to him. Tom knew they didn't see what he saw, a weak man, lost and floundering. He was just the tool Tom needed to bring the Council down once and for all. Finally he would have the long overdue justice his brother Craig deserved. While Tom had been waiting for Clark to come back, he'd come to a decision. There were only two outcomes for how this would end. Either Kent would agree to work for him, or Tom would kill him. He couldn't risk Kent talking to anyone. The information he was going to have to know was too valuable for Tom to just let Clark go. A weak man in bed with a whore is liable to say anything, Tom thought. If he had to, he would kill him and never look back.

"So?"

It was Clark that finally spoke as he finished his drink. Tom opened the plain folder and slid the top picture across the table to Clark.

"Recognize them?"

It was a picture of Julian and Suzette. It was obviously taken recently.

"Yes, I know them."

"I think you're a little more familiar with them than that, Mr. Kent,' Tom replied with a cold smile. "Especially the little whore, Suzette, you know her very well, don't you?"

"Is there a point to this? Yes, I know her,' Clark said flatly. He didn't especially like the way Tom referred to Suzette as a whore. Clark knew what she was; it just felt like he was rubbing it in. Tom immediately noticed how Clark reacted. Tom almost laughed. He'd fallen for a whore, how pathetic! I wonder what Diana would think if she knew? Why was I ever worried about him? As if to twist the knife just a bit, Tom continued.

"She is a whore, Kent, you know that don't you?"

"Yes."

"You don't like me calling her a whore, do you?"

"No."

"But it's what she is, Kent, everyone knows it."

"And you're a killer,' Clark replied. "I just had the good manners not to mention it. I guess that's the difference between us."

The smile disappeared and Tom was ice cold once again. He slid the second picture across the table. It was just Julian this time.

"Grinka, are you as friendly with him as you are with the…her?"

"No."

Tom gave Clark a cold smile and then poured him another drink.

"Well, we're just going to have to change that, aren't we?"

* * *

><p>Washington – One Week Later<p>

Diana sat at her desk finishing up the last of her paperwork for the day. She had been miserable all week. She felt angry, embarrassed, stupid and humiliated over what had happened at the hotel. He had rejected her in the cruelest way, insulting her in the process. She actually hated him that night and most of the week. Now, as she signed the last paper, she realized she was going to have to deal with what happened. She had gone to another man with every intention of sleeping with him.

She would have to tell Tom.

They had always been honest with each other and as difficult as this was, she wasn't going to stop being honest now. It would probably end their relationship and Diana wouldn't object. The truth was she wasn't sure they even had a relationship anymore. If she really cared for Tom how could she still go to Kal? She knew if the situations were reversed she would never stand for him being with someone else.

She'd ruined everything, for what? To be humiliated? A part of her wanted to go back and confront Kal, to actually beat him up physically so he would feel the same humiliation she had. She wanted to teach him so he'd never forget just how much he'd hurt her, but she knew she wouldn't. She was done with Kal, forever. Let him get himself beat to death in the ring, she didn't care anymore. if he drank himself to death in the gutter, so be it. She was done with him completely! She was washing her hands of him and good riddance!

The only problem was the restlessness was still there and she didn't know what to do about it now.

* * *

><p>Phuket –Clark's Hotel – One Week Earlier<p>

The table was covered with photos. Tom had laid it all out for Clark. He walked Clark through every murder, every crime, till it was all right there in front of him. There was no way he could pretend he didn't know about what Grinka was involved in now. The bottle was empty and Clark just sat looking at all the evidence. He had always known Julian was something of a snake, but had never guess the lengths to which he was involved in criminal activity. It was always on the edges, never the focus, though. Julian wasn't even one of the principals in all of this, but he was connected to it. It seemed the more depraved and morally bankrupt it was the more Julian was involved. Well, he always said he had exotic tastes, Clark mused.

The problem with all of it however was Clark didn't like Nemesis, either. He might be working for the right side in all of this, but that didn't make him a good man. Oh, Clark certainly understood the personal reasons Nemesis was doing this. The death of his brother obviously had a huge effect on his life. The need for vengeance was an emotion Clark was only too familiar with.

There was something else though, something personal Nemesis had against him, Clark thought. He couldn't figure out what it was, as he hardly knew the man. He tried remembering him, but if they met long ago, it must have been the most fleeting of meetings for Clark didn't recall it. It was there though, just on the edges of his words. He intensely disliked him and somehow Clark knew Nemesis would kill him without a second thought. It seemed forces beyond Clark's control had put him at the center of very dangerous men.

Tom had been pacing as he explained everything to Clark. Now that it was finished he sat back down and pointed the gun at him.

"So that's it, Kent,' Tom said. "Now you have a choice. You can either help me stop these people or you can say no."

"And if I say no?"

"I'll kill you before I walk out of here. It's nothing personal, just business."

Clark sighed, thinking of all sorts of things to say, but knew none of them would make any difference. He would either do what Nemesis wanted or he would be dead. He picked the first option.

"In that case, I guess I'm in."

"I thought you'd see it my way,' Tom replied with a smile.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

Julian smiled as he saw Suzette come outside and walk over to his table. She didn't show it but she was disappointed Horse hadn't shown up tonight. Such an interesting man, he thought. She sat down without a word and began picking at the tray of olives and cheese. Julian had been thinking of Kal off and on most of the night. Like the man on the rooftop edge, he was ready to jump. He just needed a little shove. Perhaps a test was in order, Julian thought. The idea pleased him.

"You seem unhappy, Suzette."

She just shook her head no and picked up another olive.

"I was thinking, I was supposed to take some money to Tokyo later this week, but you know how I hate traveling any more. I thought perhaps you and Horse could take it for me? Think of it as sort of a little holiday for the two of you. Would you like that, Suzette?"

"Yes, very much,' she replied with a smile.

"Good, good, than all we have to so is convince Horse to go,' Julian replied. He gave her a big smile. "We will have to give him a little shove, won't we?"


	15. Chapter 15

"You Can't Always Get What You Want"

Phuket – Thailand

Suzette sat silently silencing as Julian explained exactly what he wanted from her in return for his generosity. She wasn't the least bit surprised that there was a price to her 'holiday' with Kal. There was always a price with Julian. In this life, there was always a price for what you want. You just have to ask yourself were you willing to pay it?

Suzette had no problem paying Julian's price.

While they were on their 'holiday' she was supposed to introduce Kal to some business associates of Julian's. They were very interested in meeting him she was told. She was also supposed to make sure the two of them visited certain establishments that never made it into the guidebooks. Beyond that, Julian said he would leave it up to her imagination what fun they had. His face was a mask of calm serenity as he told her all this.

She paused for a moment or two, as if she were considering it before agreeing. She would have agreed instantly, but that wasn't how the game was played. If you seem too eager, the price always went up in the future. Her clients had never seemed to learn this, but she had early on.

Finished with her conversation with Julian, Suzette glided over to the bar. A glass of champagne was instantly put in front of her. The bartender smiled broadly as she demurely said thank you. This was another part of the game. You treat others, even the lowest of the low as if they one day might be of use to you. It cost her nothing really to smile at the man, but he would believe it had meaning. She had just paid for a future favor from him and it only cost a smile and a thank you.

As she took a sip she let her eyes leisurely scan the room. It was early, but customers were already arriving. It only took her a moment to spot her first one. While they were all looking at her, wanting her, her choice was young and too eager. He would pay whatever she told him to pay without complain. It would be over quickly, but he would be happy and so would she. Perhaps later Horse would show up. Her smile got a little bigger at this thought. If he did, she would take no more customers the rest of the night, so she needed to make money before than. It was just the price of the game. Silently she extended her small delicate hand towards the young man. He was already sweating and his smile was too big. He almost ran over to her, clasping his sweaty palm against hers. She led him up the stairs only half listening, as he couldn't wait to start pouring out his life story to her. She gave a little laugh as if something he said had amused her. It was all part of the game.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Clark's Hotel<p>

Clark woke up earlier than usual. He sat on the side of the bed letting his mind clear from the fog of sleep and alcohol. He didn't remember if he'd been dreaming or not, but then most of his dreams didn't turn out that well. Slowly the events of the previous day came back. Two very different encounters, yet both with uncomfortable conclusions. Strangely it was the first one that troubled him the most. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, he felt like a world-class bastard for how he'd treated her.

A dead fish, Jesus, he thought, did I really say that to her? She deserved so much better than that, then him for that matter. Slowly he stood up and walked over to the mirror. He stared at his reflection wondering when he'd become the kind of man that could be that cruel to someone that only wanted to help him? She probably hated him now and he deserved it, he knew.

"Diana, I'm sorry."

He said it out loud, but sadly knew it was already too late.

He'd been so desperate to feel something, anything last night that when she seemed to pull away it had felt like a cruel joke. He'd gotten so angry over a word, nice. In the heat of the moment it felt as if she were mocking him when she used it, but now in the sober morning things seemed different. He'd been selfish, only thinking of his immediate desires and wants. He better than anyone should have understood her fears. They had once been his fears too.

So this is what I've become, he thought as he looked at his reflection, the kind of man that makes beautiful women cry. He thought he had no more tears to spill, but as he stood there he could feel them running down his face. Clark suddenly realized he'd hit rock bottom.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana sat at Tom's kitchen table waiting. He had called earlier from somewhere overseas to let her know he'd been in tonight. He wanted to see her. She was nervous, but putting this off wasn't an option. He deserved the truth, no matter how much it would hurt both of them. Diana knew he would be angry and hurt. She imagined he would lash out at her, trying to hurt her as he had been. She was prepared for this, feeling it her penance from what she'd done. She owed him that much.

She heard him insert the key into the lock and then turn the knob. From her vantage point in the kitchen she couldn't see the front door, but her hearing was excellent. She could picture his every movement just from the sound. Each sound distinct, ordinary and common place, the dull thud of his suitcase hitting the floor, the shuffle of papers as he checked the week's accumulated mail. Then there was the soft bump of his hip against wood as he closed the door, followed by the rustle of fabric as he slipped off his jacket.

Diana had pictured all of this in her mind before she even arrived. It all went exactly as she thought down to the number of steps he took before he saw the kitchen light on.

"Tom, it's Diana."

She called out, knowing in his line of work, he was always on guard for an ambush. She had also heard the soft, smooth sound of metal against leather. He had taken out his gun ready for anything. The number of her heartbeats would be five before he appeared in the doorway. She looked up; aware he would stop in the doorway and smile at her. A beat later his smile would slip a bit as he saw her expression. Yes, there it was, she thought.

"Diana? What's going on?"

The first question, she knew it would be a variation of something like that.

"Tom, please sit down, we need to talk."

He was weary and concerned, but she expected this too. It was going just as she imagined, no deviation, no surprises.

"Diana?"

Now she had to hurt him. She wished there was another way, but he had to know the truth. She wished she had been a better person, stronger instead of so human in her failings.

"Tom, there's something I have to tell you. Some thing I did and it's going to hurt you."

He leaned forward and clasped her hand in his own.

"Diana whatever it is, you can tell me, you know that,' he replied. Compassion, she knew that would be his first reaction. She gave him a small, sad smile, knowing he would change emotions in just a few moments.

"I cheated on you, Tom. I went to another man."

His hand pulled away as her words registered.

"What?"

"I was with someone else."

"Who?"

She knew that would be the first question.

"It doesn't matter who, it won't be happening again. What matters is what I did. I owe you the truth. I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done."

His hand lashed out, knocking the salt and pepper shakers off the table. Anger flashed over his features. He stood up and began pacing. Diana didn't move. She knew she'd hurt him deeply, yet there was almost a surreal quality to all of this. She had been thinking about it all week and pictured how it would go in her mind. It was disconcerting how much of it was happening just as she imagined.

Two questions were coming.

Tom ran his hand over his face, the fury burning inside of him. Since the moment he began dating her he'd always feared this moment and now it was here.

"Why, Diana?"

She took a moment before replying.

"I've been unhappy."

She'd been wrestling with the same question since that night. She came up with a million excuses and justifications, but they really didn't matter now. The reason she gave him encapsulated all of them to some degree.

"So who was it?"

There it was, the second question she thought. His pride was wounded and he would want to know. She could tell him again it didn't really matter, the problem was hers that caused this, but he wouldn't hear any of that. He would just want to know who. Even before she said the name out loud she realized it would only make it worse.

"Kal."

Tom already knew who it was even before she said it. He had to hear it from her lips though. He had to hear her say the name for it to actually be real. And then she did. Kent, Clark fucking Kent. She even had an endearing nickname for him, Kal. When, he thought and then it hit him. It must have been the night he sat waiting for Kent in his hotel room, Tom sadly realized. He must have just come from her when he walked in the door. If Tom had known, he would have emptied his clip into Kent's chest and left him for dead. The irony wasn't lost on Tom that Kent didn't even know about him and Diana. Tom had spent the better part of the last week, badgering, berating, and blackmailing Kent into doing what he wanted. As his training had taught him, Tom had impressed on Kent just who was in charge and calling the shots. How his very future depended on him doing exactly what Tom told him to.

All that time neither of them knew Kent had already delivered a far more devastating blow to Tom's life then any he'd tried to do to Kent's.

Diana waited, knowing more questions were coming. She mostly felt sad and tired, wanting this to end. That's why she was here, wasn't it?

"Why him, Diana?"

"I don't know,' she admitted.

"You went half way around the world to screw him and you don't know why? Do you really expect me to believe that?' Tom asked.

"We didn't have sex, Tom,' Diana offered. "I don't know why I went to him. I guess I thought … I … I don't know what I was thinking."

"I asked you once before if you were in love with him. Were you lying to me then or now?"

"I'm not in love with him, Tom, far from it." Diana admitted. Just thinking of Kal brought back the humiliation and anger. "I never want to see him again."

"Yet you went to him."

"Yes."

Tom sat back down. He could see the sadness in her eyes. As much as her betrayal hurt, part of him still wanted her desperately.

"If you were so unhappy, why didn't you come to me, Diana?"

"I tried Tom, you just didn't seem to want to listen."

Diana hated this moment. She knew that would hurt him almost as much as the betrayal. She looked at him, wishing she had some words that could ease his pain, but knew there were none. As her eyes roamed over his face, she got the first and only surprise of this whole sad episode. His cheek was bruised near his eye. It seemed like a recent injury. In all the versions she'd thought of in her mind, his being injured hadn't been a factor. Compassion and worry swept through her immediately.

"Your cheek,' she said, gesturing towards the bruise. "You're hurt. Are you okay? What happened?"

She reached out to touch him, but he pulled away.

"Hazards of my job,' he immediately said, dismissing it. "You said you tried talking to me. So is that your way of saying this is my fault?"

They were back to the script again, she sadly realized.

"No, Tom, what happened was my doing. I'm the one responsible."

"You slept with him."

"No, Tom, I didn't."

"Change of heart at the last minute? Should that make me feel better?"

There was an almost mocking tone in his voice, as if he didn't believe her.

"Yes, there was a change of heart, but not the way you're imagining. He rejected me and walked out."

Admitting that to anyone just made the sting and humiliation of it that much worse. Tom was surprised, but his anger was still too great.

"He treated you like the whores he usually goes with, huh? That's the man you threw away everything for?"

Tom's voice was cold and full of pain.

"I worshipped you when we were in bed together, Diana. I would look at you lying there and think I'd never seen anyone more beautiful. You were a Goddess to me. I thought we had something nice together. I never tried to push you for more than you were comfortable with, but I guess that wasn't enough, was it?"

"I don't know what else to say, Tom, I'm so sorry."

"What now?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"I don't know either,' Tom admitted. "Maybe it would be better if you left now before we say anything else we'll both regret."

"Of course."

And there it was, just like she'd imagined it would be. She stood and slowly walked to the door. Silently she opened it and left him sitting at the kitchen table.

* * *

><p>Phuket – One Week Earlier<p>

For the third day in a row, Nemesis had returned to Clark's hotel room. He didn't want to leave anything to chance. He went over and over it again, pictures, names, everything that he wanted Clark to know. He was to wait for Julian to approach him, not try and initiate anything on his own. Julian would be suspicious of that. Whatever it was, Clark was to agree to it. That would be his first test and if it went well, he would be in.

Tom had done this before, recruiting a reluctant asset. The key was finding a weakness and then exploiting it. The asset might come to hate you, but he would understand that you were the one in control. You controlled the asset's life and there was no choice but for the asset to do what you wanted.

Tom thought he'd found Clark's weakness, Suzette. He had feelings for a whore, just pathetic, Tom thought. He would use it, though, use it to show Kent that this was deadly business and he wouldn't stop at using anything to get what he wanted. So each day, Tom picked away at it like an open sore, constantly reminding him that he knew everything about him and how vulnerable he really was. How his life depended on doing just exactly what Tom told him to.

Clark felt like crap. He hadn't had a drink all-day and little to eat. His body hurt all over and his mind yearned only for rest. He was sweating like a marathon runner just crossing the finish line. Nemesis was on Clark's last nerve and he's had just about enough. He wished he could remember where he met Nemesis before. Clark knew it had to be back when he was Superman, but that was little help. When he gave up his powers, he'd put away that part of his life and never looked back. The memories were still there, but it was like watching a distant cousin's Super 8 home movies. Faces flashed in and out of focus, occasionally one would be immediately recognizable. For the most part though, they were just faces in a crowd.

"So Julian will come at you sideways, that's the way he works,' Tom explained. "No doubt he'll use the cute little whore."

"Shut up."

Nemesis was standing and Clark sat at the table, but the look he gave Nemesis was a warning.

"So touchy about the whore. Come on Kent, don't be stupid,' Tom replied.

"I get it Nemesis, Suzette is a whore, a prostitute, a working girl. How many ways do you want to say it? You've made it abundantly clear over and over. She's still a human being, Nemesis and she's never done anything to you. I'm sick of hearing you constantly disparage her and I won't tell you again."

Tom knew he'd pushed too hard. He'd let it get personal and wanted to rub Kent's face in it. That was a mistake, he knew, but he just couldn't let it go.

"All that vitriol, Kent, over a whore."

Clark was up out of his seat in the next moment. He let his hand fly, backhanding Nemesis across the face and knocking him to the floor. He took a step towards him, but Nemesis already had his gun out and pointed at Clark's chest.

"I could kill you right now for that,' Tom whispered. His cheek stung from the blow and he was angry.

"But you won't,' Clark replied. "I'm an asset, as you like to remind me. Call her a whore again and you will have to kill me, Nemesis."

Tom got back to his feet, the gun always targeting Clark's chest. He moved over to his case and took out another folder. He'd pushed too hard and knew it. He fell back on his training. The girl wasn't his only leverage.

"Sit down, Mr. Kent, now."

Clark reluctantly sat down. Nemesis slapped the folder down on the table and opened it. He picked up the top picture and slid it across to Clark.

"Forgetting the girl for a moment, Mr. Kent, you seem to forget I'm in charge. I know everything about you. Everything."

Clark looked down at the photo. It was the burnt remains of the house in the suburbs. It was the first time he'd seen it since that night.

"Arson, Mr. Kent, I doubt the authorities back home have forgotten that you burned it down."

"It was my house to burn down,' Clark quietly replied.

"The authorities would think different."

"I set money back a while ago to cover any costs they might have incurred, Nemesis. If you want to push this, go ahead, I'll take my chances."

So he's showing so spirit after all, Tom thought with a smile. He pulled out another photo and dropped it on top of the first. It was a photo of just the Superman logo. Clark looked at it with almost a detachment. It was the House of El symbol to him, but that was another lifetime.

"Is this supposed to mean something?" Clark asked.

"Superman,' Tom said triumphantly. "I would imagine a lot of people would be interested to find out Superman didn't actually die all those years ago. A lot of people would be interested to know Clark Kent was still alive and kicking."

Clark shook his head and a sad smile came to his face.

"You don't get it, do you, Nemesis,' Clark said. "He did die; they both did that day along with just about everyone they ever cared for. You lost your brother so you think you know about loss. You don't. I've lost worlds, not once but three times. Everyone and everything I've ever cared about is dead and gone. Superman and Clark Kent died with them."

"Are you sure everyone you care for is dead, Mr. Kent?" Tom asked. "Everyone encompasses a lot of people. Maybe a few people slipped through, maybe there are still some people from back then that you care about. There is also the fact that Superman put a lot of people away; I think they would care, don't you? They might not care about what you've lost, they would only be thinking of themselves. We haven't even gotten to the government yet, Mr. Kent, I'm sure they'd still be interested in you. So you see, one world or three, you still have something to lose. That's why you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Are we clear now, Mr. Kent?"

Clark sat there just looking at him for a moment.

"So a murderer, a blackmailer and a bully,' Clark softly said to Nemesis. 'Suzette is looking better and better by comparison."

"Welcome to the real world of espionage, Mr. Kent. It's not James Bond or Jason Bourne here. It's shades of gray and hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys sometimes."

"Which one are you, Nemesis?"

"I'm one of the good guys."

"You're right, it is hard to tell."

* * *

><p>Phuket – Three Days Later<p>

Nemesis had been right, Julian did make the first move. Clark had resisted at first, but finally agreed to accompany Suzette to Tokyo. Nemesis was pleased when Clark told him. Clark frankly didn't give a damn about any of it, but he would go along for the ride. At this point he wasn't sure who was worse then who.

He stepped out of the American Express office just as the car pulled up. Suzette was sitting in the back and smiled at him when he opened the door.

"Why did you have us pick you up here instead of your hotel?"

"I had to mail something overseas,' Clark replied.

Suzette leaned in and kissed him. It was filled with passion and desire. She let him know without words that she wanted him.

"It should be an interesting weekend,' she offered before kissing him again. The car pulled away and headed for the airport.

* * *

><p>Washington – Themysciran Embassy<p>

Diana stood in her office, looking out her window. She'd been here for hours. The scene at Tom's apartment was still on her mind. Endings are never easy, but this one was so filled with regret. It had all been so stupid and reckless. Here she was, 38 an age when most women were starting to finally figure it all out and her private life was in a shambles. She'd thrown away a good, comfortable relationship for what? Nothing.

A knock at the door finally made her turn.

"Come in."

The door opened and her secretary came in carrying a small package.

"I'm sorry to disturb you this late, Diana, but this just arrived for you."

"It's alright, Joanna,' Diana said giving the younger woman a weak smile. "Why don't you head home? It's been a long day and I'm sure you're tired."

"I don't mind staying if you want me too."

"No, but thank you. Good night."

"Good night, Diana."

She watched as her secretary exited the room and then looked at the package. She looked for any markings that would tell where it was from, but they must have worn off on the trip. Diana pulled the top flap back and saw there was a small, plain white box inside. Taking it out, Diana opened the lid and received her second surprise of the day. Resting on a layer of baby's breath was a single red orchid. She gently lifted the delicate flower to get a closer look at it and then saw the card underneath. It simply said Diana on the outside. Setting the box down, she picked up the card with her other hand and flicked it open with her fingers.

"_Diana, there aren't appropriate words,_

_so I'll have to use these pale substitutes._

_I'm sorry."_

_Kal._


	16. Chapter 16

Days of Wine and Orchids

Tokyo – Friday Night

It had been years since Clark had been in Japan. The Ginza was just as dazzling in that uniquely Japanese way; it was a neon wonderland that overwhelmed the eye. He sat in the back of the limo with Suzette, staring out the window. Billie Holiday's version of 'Too Marvelous for Words' played over the speakers. It seemed her taste in music ran to artists from before she was born. It was one of the few things he really knew about her. She talked less than any woman Clark had ever met. He turned and looked at her. She was sipping a glass of champagne and seemed content to just be. Occasionally, her phone would ring or buzz, but she rarely immediately pulled it out like most people. Once in a while, she would actually take it out and look at the text or number calling, but she never made any effort to return them. He realized he knew so little about her and this small oddity intrigued him. When it next rang, he decided to ask.

"You're not going to answer it?"

"No."

"I've noticed you rarely answer,' he said. "If you don't mind me asking, why?"

"The beauty and the nightmare of technology is that it makes everyone seem available all the time, night or day without regard for what they might be doing. I just choice to not be available."

Her answer surprised him. He suddenly realized she had probably been through all of this before.

"So any advice on this meeting with Max?"

Max was the name Julian had given Clark. He was the man the money was for. Suzette seemed to hesitate, as if considering whether to say anything or just remain silent sipping her champagne.

"Anything that helps me get this over with, just means more time for us,' he offered.

That seemed to persuade her. She turned and looked at him for a moment.

"Everything here is about honor and respect,' she said. 'Those are two-way streets. If you don't received them, don't give them."

She flashed him a playful, mysterious smile and then turned to look out the window.

"Wow, you are so deep."

He offered as a playful jab of his own.

"Far more than you realize, Kal,' she replied with a little laugh. "Just play the game and you'll be fine."

* * *

><p>Washington – Saturday<p>

Tom had sent flowers saying he would forgive her and wanted to try again. She looked at the dozen red roses; somehow she knew even before they arrived that would be what he would send. She looked at the note again too. Diana knew it was her fault they broke up, but now that it was over there was a sense of relief. It suddenly didn't seem important whether he forgave her or not. She knew the flowers were just he first attempted. A sad almost bittersweet feeling came over her as she realized that once wouldn't be enough. She would have to rehash it all at least once, probably twice more in the coming days.

She felt tired of all of it. More explanations would have to be given. At some point the clichés would be used, it wasn't him, but her. Going to his apartment had been hard but confessing was the right thing to do. The problem was now that she'd done it Diana found she wanted a clean break, an ending. Unfortunately from experience she knew there were no clean breaks. Recriminations, attempts as reconciliation, more words spoken in anger and hurt were to come. She just wanted to bypass all that.

It was over she knew and even if they got back together that would always be between them. It was a hard thing to accept and she imagined how heartless she would seem, but what they had or didn't have would never be recaptured. Somewhere down the line, another fight would occur and it would be brought up. It would never be forgotten by either of them.

It was really for the best to just end it now. If that made her a bitch in his eyes, so be it. She would be the villain of the story if that's what it took not to have to rehash it all again. The nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty came to mind. Something's can never be put back together again. It was better to admit your mistakes, say you were sorry and try and learn from it for the future. To cling to what used to be would only poison the good memories they shared.

Diana knew it was the hard choice, as everyone likes to hold on to what was familiar. Facing the unknown was frightening even to an immortal Princess, but she wouldn't let her life be ruled by fear. It that meant she had to be alone, then that would have to be.

* * *

><p>Tokyo – Friday<p>

As Clark and Suzette were led through the club, he felt oddly detached from all of it. He was well aware these were all gangsters and killers; he still recognized the telltale signs. He wasn't here though for any favors or grievances, he was just dropping some money off for a friend. He didn't need anyone in this room, so they had no hold on him.

Suzette's words about playing the game came back to him. It was probably sound advice, but he wasn't here to play games with anyone. In and out, that was all he was looking to do. The business about respect and honor always seemed childish to him. You earn respect, not demanded it be given. A guy that gets up every morning and does an honest day's work to provide for his family has earned respect. A punk with a gun demands it be given.

The same went for honor. Honor was integrity in one's beliefs and actions. It was totally independent of what others said or thought. If you were true to yourself then no one could take it away and certainly not give it.

The words had been so distorted any more. Every argument seemed to devolve into whether someone disrespected someone else. Some times calling someone a douchebag isn't disrespecting them; it simply means you think they are a douchebag. You might even respect how big a douchebag they are, but that would just start another argument.

A small smile crept over Clark's lips as all this went through his head. Maybe I am drinking way too much, he thought. Things are already surreal enough without my mind going off on tangents. He was pulled from these thoughts, as they reached the back room. A short stocky Japanese man stepped forward and frisked them. They patiently waited for him to finish and then were led into the back room. Another small Japanese man sat behind the desk. There were bodyguards on either side of him, trying to look menacing. The man at the desk was dressed in a charcoal gray suit and had just a bit too much jewelry on in Clark's opinion.

"Suzette,' the man said. She nodded and then took one of the chairs by the door. The man turned his attention to Clark. "I'm Max. You must be the Pale Horse I've heard so much about."

"Kal, just Kal."

"Julian speaks highly of you."

"That's nice of him."

"He must trust you very much if he's having you make his delivers."

"You'd have to ask him."

Clark reached into his coat pocket to take out the money. The two bodyguards snapped to attention. Clark felt like rolling his eyes at this. He'd just been searched a minute ago. He slowly took out the wrapped package of money and set it on the desk.

"This is what Julian wanted me to deliver. Now I've done that, so I'll say good bye and we'll be on our way."

He turned and started for the door went the short stocky man stepped in front of it blocking his way.

"You seem in a big hurry, that makes me wonder if something else is going on,' Max said. Clark slowly turned towards him.

"No. I said I'd bring the money and give it to you and now I have."

"How do I know it's all there?"

"That's not my concern."

"I think it is,' Max replied. "How do I know you haven't stolen part of it?"

"Why don't you check,' Clark offered. "If it's not all there, call Julian. I'm just delivering, as I said."

"You seem in a big rush to get out of here,' Max said. "That makes me wonder if something is going on. Is something going on?"

Clark sighed and walked back to the desk.

"Why are you making this difficult?' He asked. "You have your money. My part is done. If you don't want it, I'll take it back. I'd like to leave because I'm here with a beautiful woman. I'd like to spend more time in her company than yours. So make a decision, do you want the money or not?"

"Do you have any idea who I am?"

"You said your name was Max. Other than that, no I don't know anything about you."

The stocky man was suddenly right next to Clark.

"My people understand they should show respect when they are dealing with me,' Max said. "You don't seem to grasp this."

"I'm not one of your people."

"Then perhaps you need a lesson in respect."

Clark knew what was coming. He anticipated the short stocky man's move. He blocked the punch and countered, knocking the man to the ground. Huh, I guess I did remember something she tried to teach me, Clark absently thought. The short stocky man was back on his feet and charging Clark again. While Clark wasn't as expert a fighter as the other man probably was, he had size, strength and speed on his side. Those usually win out in most fights and this one was no different. He let the man's momentum carrying him close and then lifted him off the ground and tossed him across the room. The two bodyguards had their weapons out when Clark turned back to Max. Everyone was silent for a moment, and then a smile broke across Max's face.

"Just like in the ring, strong as a Horse,' he said. He waved his bodyguards to put away their weapons. He got up and came around the desk and extended his hand. Clark shook it.

"I've enjoyed watching you fight several times,' Max offered. "My apologies for this little test, but I wanted to see what sort of man you were."

"And now you have your answer." It was Suzette that spoke for the first time since they came in the office. Max looked at her and smiled.

"Yes, I have. I would say enjoy your stay in Tokyo, Horse, but I'm already certain you will. If you want or need anything, just tell the hotel staff. Everything is on my tab this weekend,' Max replied. "It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we see you again before you leave."

"Um, thanks."

With that Clark and Suzette were politely escorted out of the back room and returned to their waiting limo. Clark wasn't sure what had just happened but Suzette seemed very pleased.

* * *

><p>Washington – Saturday Night<p>

It was late. Diana had just finished a shift with the League. It was good to get her mind off her own problems for a while. The mission hadn't been anything major, just bringing supplies to aid workers, but it had helped. She felt a sense of satisfaction about it. She'd lingered afterwards. The usual banter was taking place and she sat and listened, laughing occasionally for the first time in a while. It seemed Wally's children were the most amazing children in the world and he of course attributed this to his genes. That was all that was needed to get the discussion going.

It had been fun being there with them, but Diana sometimes wished she were closer with her teammates. Yes, they were friends, but none of them were what you would call close friends. She certainly hadn't discussed her break up with Tom with any of them. It seemed even after all this time the people she was closest to were back on Themyscira.

More roses had arrived. Diana hadn't responded to the first batch or note, but apparently Tom wasn't giving up that easily. She wished he would, but really hadn't expected it. The note that accompanied the roses was similar in tone to the first, but there was a clear hint that he saw all of this as her fault and she owed it to him to try again. He would take her back and they would forget this episode the note said.

The staff had put the roses in water and they sat in her office. They were lovely flowers even if they were the obvious choice. She glanced at the note one more time then slipped it into the second drawer on the right hand side of her desk where the first note was. Kal's note was there too.

* * *

><p>Tokyo - Ana Intercontinental – Saturday<p>

It was late and they finally returned to their hotel room. Suzette had led Clark on a rather interesting tour of the city. There were plenty of drinks and out of the ordinary entertainment. Lots of people were met and many hands shaken. They had made stops in several clubs Suzette said Julian had recommended they visit. More gangsters, great, Clark thought. It turned out they weren't that bad and the clubs were rather enjoyable. Apparently the story of what happened in Max's office had already made the rounds and everyone wanted to be friends. More drinks were in the offing.

Clark's fights were of huge interest in those clubs. It seemed Max wasn't the only one that had seen them. The dramatic way they all tended to end seemed to fascinate more than one gangster. The short stocky man from early was at one club. He went by the name Sugar and far from being angry over losing to Clark he took it as a sign of honor that he'd withstood Clark's punch.

Things took a rather absurd turn after that. The business of honor was now out on the table. It became something of a contest over who had the most honor. Grown men wanted Clark to hit them to show their honor. He tried to politely decline, but gangsters aren't used to accepting no as an answer. It as Suzette that finally leaned into him and whispered, "Just punch the shit out of them, they'll love it."

Sighing, Clark punched them. At first he didn't really want to hit them that hard, but then they would complain and demand to be hit harder. Finally he just hauled off and nailed man after man. They actually started to line up for the honor. It was only after Clark's hand started to get sore that they allowed him to stop. More drinks followed.

There were several stops after that, each getting just a little more extreme and exotic. It seemed Suzette was the perfect guide through the alternative underground nightlife of Tokyo. The last stop had been a Dark Cabaret, unlike anything he'd witnessed in his life. It seemed to draw on the aesthetics of the decadent, risqué German Weimar-ear cabarets, burlesque and vaudeville shows combined with the style of post-1970s Goth and punk music. Add to the mix that bizarre intensity that anyone who has seen a Japanese horror movie is familiar with. Heavy doses of bondage fetish completed the picture.

Clark and Suzette sat at a small table drinking martinis. In the center of each table was a candle and they provided the only illumination. Music started and then a spotlight hit the stage. Like something out of a nightmarish Bob Fosse production, women entirely in latex, including gasmasks appeared. They were a chorus line of high kicking fetish Rockettes.

This was followed by a heavily Japanese accented torch singer warbling 40s era blues and jazz tunes. Things just got weirder after that. Suzette seemed to be enjoying it all. Whether it was the booze or just the atmosphere, Clark suddenly felt like a farm boy from the sticks for the first time in a long time. The show seemed to no only play with the conventions of what a show was, but with time and rhythm as well. It was like watching a movie that was supposed to be played at 30 frames per second, suddenly played at 24 frames, then at 36 frames. It was always slightly off. Force decadence or a manic energy seemed to always be in effect.

The last act of the show was both disturbing and erotic. It was a take off of the classic stripper. A rather voluptuous young woman did a slow bump and grind. Her skintight outfit had a series of hooks attached to it and velvet ribbons were attached the hooks. The performance when as they usually do until suddenly one of the velvet ribbons was violently jerked. The hook and part of her outfit would tear away. The young woman would stumbled from the force, but then continue. This continued over and over, growing in frequency and intensity until she was wearing nothing at all. The song finished, she flashed a smile to the audience and then the lights went out.

Clark sat there stunned, unsure of what he'd just seen. Was it some parody of a striptease, he wondered? A commentary on how violence towards women treats them all as objects? Or was it just the weirdest, most bizarre thing they could come up with? When they were leaving, Clark mentioned all of these possibilities to Suzette, but she just smiled and said she liked it.

Now back in their room, Clark's head was buzzing. He was on the bed and Suzette was walking towards him. She looked lovely. He suddenly wondered if he'd treated her any better than Nemesis. He'd been with her many times now, but never tried to get to know her. He never asked about her life growing up or where she was from. They hardly spoke at all when they were together. He suddenly felt like he should. This was what it was, but it seemed like something he should do.

She stood next to the bed and slowly let her robe slip from her shoulders. It dropped down and pooled around her ankles. There was a hunger in her eyes, as she glided onto the bed and into his arms. He felt the intensity of her kiss and it seemed to stir the flames within him. Before things got out of hand, Clark felt the need to at least try to get to know this mysterious woman.

"Suzette,' he said, pulling back away. "I thought we might talk. You know, get to know each other a bit?"

"Don't.' She replied. She pressed one tiny finger against his lips as if to silence him. "Don't spoil this and turn it into something ordinary. Let's not be like everyone else, rushing to tell each other the stories of our lives. Enjoy the mystery of not knowing everything about each other."

"That wasn't what I was trying to do,' he offered.

"Perhaps, but that would be the end result,' she replied. "Two people like each other and have some chemistry, but then suddenly they feel a desperate need to tell everything about themselves and know everything about the other. They strip away all the surprise, all the mystery and all the passion. What is left is another ordinary mundane relationship a little closer than most but essentially like all their other relationships."

She shifted onto his lap, slowly starting to grind against him.

"What I like about you is that when we are together, we don't need that. We don't need words, Kal. This is what it is and we both know it. Yesterday is gone and will never return. Tomorrow never gets here. We only have now, these moments right now. Do you want to waste them on telling me what jobs you used to have or make love to me?"

"That's an easy question,' he said with a smile.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" She teased.

* * *

><p>Washington – Sunday<p>

The Embassy was closed and the staff for the most part had the day off. Diana took an extra shift on the Watchtower giving Jonn some time off. It wasn't a particularly eventful day, but she kept busy. Command came naturally to her and years of experience had honed her skills. She made quick, smart decisions, assembling each team to deal with each specific assignment. She tried to balance each unit, making sure each member complimented the others. If there was a young less experienced member, then she countered this with a more seasoned one. It was always a delicate balance, but she managed it with a deft touch.

It was late when she got back to the Embassy. The staff was all gone. More roses had been delivered along with a curter note. Diana would like to say she was surprised, but she wasn't. Perhaps this was her punishment for her mistake, she thought. Wandering up to her private rooms, she saw the light on her private line blinking. It would be several messages from Tom. It seemed he wasn't going to just accept and walk away like she had. Diana realized she was going to have to deal with all of it again. Not tonight, though. Tonight she just didn't have the strength to go over it all again. She turned off the ringer on the phone and changed. She slipped into bed and tried to sleep and not think of what still needed to be done.

* * *

><p>Tokyo – Sunday<p>

It was late and they would be leaving soon. Suzette was doing some last minute shopping before the car arrived. Clark strolled through the lobby as he waited for her. Nemesis had told him this weekend would be a test, but Clark wasn't sure of what. Just the thought of Nemesis depressed him. He presented himself as knowing all the angles, but Clark had a feeling that he really didn't. Nemesis seemed to think Julian was just another local gangster, but Clark's impression of the man was different.

Julian was after something else, not money, as Nemesis seemed to think. Clark wasn't sure what it was, but Julian didn't strike him as the kind of man that money was a concern. He had said himself; his tastes ran to the exotic. Julian was playing a different game than Nemesis believed, in Clark's opinion. He just wasn't sure yet what it was.

Clark knew Nemesis would show up some time in the coming week and want to know everything that happened. Clark felt like an errand boy and chaffed against it. He could still hear Nemesis' threat of exposing him for who he used to be and how there were probably still people out there that he cared about from that old life.

As Clark rounded the corner, he saw a small flower shop nestled in among the hotel shopping area. The painful memory of his actions came rushing back. A single apology suddenly didn't feel like enough. Before he realized it, Clark was in the flower shop picking out another orchid. He knew a smattering of Japanese and asked about express shipping to America. It could be done he was told. He took the pen and wrote a short note on the plain white paper. He was just about to fold it and add it to the box when he stopped. A small smile came to his face. He opened the note and added a P.S. then paid for all of it.

* * *

><p>Washington – Tuesday<p>

Diana sat at her desk having just finished talking to Tom. After a lot of arguing she had agreed to meet him face to face later tonight. She hoped that would finally put an end to it, but somehow had her doubts. Judging by their phone conversation she had a pretty good idea what would happen later. She wasn't looking forward to it. She leaned forward, her head in her hands feeling rather depressed about it all.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the plain white package sitting on the edge of her desk. She knew who it was from, but had resisted opening it. She still felt angry and humiliated by him and this was her way of punishing him for lack of a better way.

Curiosity was killing her though.

Finally she sat back and reached for the package. She noticed the postal markings were from Japan and wondered what he was doing there. She tore open the end and let the contents slip out onto her desk. Another plain white box just like the first one. Another red orchid she thought. With a sigh, she opened the lid. At first she thought it was a white orchid, but as she looked closer, Diana saw it was actually the palest pink she had ever seen. It was only in the direct light that it was noticeable. It was beautiful. She spent several moments just looking at it, marveling at the color. She finally set it down gently and picked up the note. Probably another apology she thought. She opened it.

_Diana,_

_One apology didn't seem enough for what I did._

_I'm deeply sorry and hope you know that._

_Kal_

There was a P.S.

_I know you probably never want to see me again_

_But in the off chance you do, would you please not slap me so hard?_

Despite herself, Diana found she was smiling.

"Not likely, Kal,' she whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

"Falling Beams"

Phuket – Thailand

Suzette had changed her clothes and came down the stairs. She moved among the other girls and clientele, but she wasn't accepting any customers just yet. She found Julian sitting on the back veranda. He idly fanned himself, a drink in his right hand as he gazed out at the sunset. There was an old dog-eared book lying on the table next to him. He seemed to hear her quiet footsteps and turned to her with a smile.

"Ah, you're back, good, good,' he said. "How was your holiday?"

"Excellent."

She took the seat across from him. Julian poured her half a glass of liquor and gently slid it over to her. He raised his glass and she followed suit.

"I spoke to Max, he was very pleased with Horse."

"You knew he would be,' Suzette casually replied.

"Yes, but it's always good to hear that your instincts are right,' Julian admitted.

"I don't know if you are right about him, Julian,' Suzette offered.

"How so?"

"He didn't seem too interested in Max or any of it, really."

"Well, I'm sure his mind was on his beautiful companion,' Julian said with a smile. It was obvious flattery given easily, so she took it for what it was worth.

"Perhaps but I doubt that explains all of it."

"No, probably not,' Julian admitted. He reached out and picked up the old book on the table and turned the cover towards her. "Have you by chance ever read this?"

"The Maltese Falcon? I've seen the movie."

"And a wonderful movie it was,' Julian offered. "Humphrey Bogart, Peter Lorre, Mary Astor and Sidney Greenstreet were each perfect for the roles. But it is based on a book by Dashiell Hammett, a wonderful writer."

"I know who Dashiell Hammett is, Julian."

"Of course you do, my apologies,' he replied. "I first read this book as a young boy. I loved the pulp fictions of the day, the hard-boiled detectives and the femme fatales were the stuff of dreams to me in the small village I grew up in. I realized now most of the stories were atrocious writing, but this, this was something special."

"How so?" Suzette was leaning forward. Julian rarely spoke about his early life so while she listened, she was more interested in what purpose he was telling the story for than the story itself.

"As I said, Mr. Hammett is a rare talent,' Julian explained. "Most think of him as a detective writer, but he's so much more than that. There is a small side story in this book that has stayed with me ever since the first time I read it. It's called the Flitcraft parable."

"I don't remember that from the movie."

"Because it's not in it."

"Are you going to tell me the story, Julian?' She asked. He smiled and then took another sip of his drink.

"If you insist."

Suzette reached out and refilled their glasses, then sat back to listen. Julian leaned his head back as if remembering. He took an extra moment as if to get it just right before he began.

"While Spade and Miss O'Shaughnessy are waiting for Joel Cairo to arrive, Spade tells her a story of a case he once worked on. A man named Flitcraft left his real estate office in Tacoma one day to go to lunch and never returned. A golf match he set up before leaving he didn't show up for. His wife and two children never saw him again. There were no problems in the marriage; they were by all accounts on the best of terms. They owned their home, a new car and all the rest of the things that define a successful American life."

Julian stopped for a moment and took a drink before continuing.

"Flitcraft had inherited money from his father and with his successful business was worth a considerable amount when he vanished. His affairs were in order, although there were the loose ends that indicated he hadn't been planning on vanishing. A deal that would have brought him an attractive profit was to be concluded the day after the one he disappeared. There was nothing to suggest he had more than fifty dollars on him at the time. His habits and movements for the past six months were investigated, but there were no buried secrets, no women on the side, nothing. As Hammett so eloquently put it in the book, "He went like that,' Spade said, "Like a fist when you open your hand."

"So he was murdered,' Suzette suggested.

"No,' Julian replied with a shake of his head. "Five years went by and nothing, no word, no ransom, just nothing. One day Mrs. Flitcraft came to see Spade and tells him that a friend swears they saw a man that looked like her husband in Spokane. Spade immediately goes to Spokane and sure enough, it's Flitcraft. He's been living in Spokane for a couple of years under the name Charles Pierce. He has an automobile business and makes a nice living, along with a new wife and baby son. They live in the suburbs of Spokane in a home they have almost paid off. Flitcraft or Pierce now, even plays golf after work much as he always has."

Suzette didn't offer any questions, just patiently waited for Julian to continue.

"Spade wasn't sure what to do, but decided to talk with Flitcraft and find out what really happened. They meet in Spade's hotel room. Flitcraft seemed eager to finally tell someone what had happened. He seemed desperate for Spade, anyone to understand."

Julian took a sip of his drink, enjoying the interplay of the sweet and sour before continuing.

"Flitcraft told his story. He had been going to lunch when he passed an office building under construction. A beam suddenly got loose and fell ten stories smashing into the sidewalk right alongside Flitcraft. It just missed him, but hit the concrete so hard it shattered it and a chunk came up and nicked Flitcraft in the cheek. He still had the scar from it. He was shocked and terrified, scared out of his mind. He felt like somebody had taken the lid off life and let him look at the works."

Suzette was riveted to Julian's story and remained silent waiting for him to continue.

"Flitcraft was a good citizen, a good father, husband and a church-goer, not from any outer compulsion, but simply because he had been raised that way. The life he knew was a sane responsible orderly affair. Now a falling beam had shown him that life was fundamentally none of those things. He was a good man but could be wiped out between the office and the restaurant by the accident of a falling beam. He suddenly knew that men died as haphazardly as that and lived only by blind chance sparing them."

Julian took a sip of his drink, letting Suzette digest his story so far.

"Flitcraft found that the injustice of it all wasn't the most disturbing thing. All his illusions about his orderly life, of justice and fair play, of life having meaning and a purpose were suddenly gone as he realized it could all end in a moment from a random falling beam. It was a shattering experience for Flitcraft and he suddenly knew he would never have any peace until he adjusted himself to this new glimpse of how life really worked. As he walked away from the scene he decided he would change his life at random by simply going away. He drifted and wandered around for a while and then finally settled in Spokane. He got married again. His second wife didn't look like his first but they were more alike than different. He wasn't sorry for what he'd done, it seemed like the most natural reaction in the world to him. Spade didn't have the heart to point out that he had basically settled back in the same groove he had jumped out of in Tacoma. And here's the kicker, the best like of the story,' Julian said. "He had adjusted himself to beams falling and then no more of them fell, so he adjusted himself to them not falling."

Julian smiled as he finished the story. He refilled his glass and sat back contently.

"You think Kal is like Flitcraft?' Suzette ventured. "You think he was the victim of a falling beam?"

"A falling beam, a personal tragedy, I don't truly know, and it really makes no difference,' Julian replied. "His basic faith and understanding of the world have been shaken, perhaps shattered."

"And now that no more beams are falling?"

"He's slowly becoming the man he used to be.' Julian said. "Unless."

"Unless?"

"More beams fall."

* * *

><p>Phuket – Clark's Hotel Room<p>

Nemesis paced angrily across the hotel room floor. Clark had just told him everything that had happened in Japan and it seemed like an ideal start. Then Clark dropped a bombshell.

"I quit."

'Excuse me?"

"I said, I quit,' Clark repeated.

"I don't remember giving you the option of quitting, Mr. Kent,' Nemesis said.

"You didn't, I did."

"Who the hell do you think you are, Kent? You've met these people! They are dangerous and need to be taken down,' Nemesis shouted. "You can't just walk about from this, you're in it now!"

"No, no I'm not,' Clark replied. He was just calmly sitting on his bed while Nemesis paced. "Everything you say about them might be true, but I realized something this weekend. I'm out of my depth. I can't tell the good guys from the bad guys in your world. I find I like you less than I like them."

"It's business, Kent, don't let it get personal!"

"But you already made it personal, Nemesis,' Clark countered. "From the moment I walked in that door, you've threatened to kill me or blackmail me or expose me. You've implied that you would have no problem risking those around me to get what you want. You blame these people for your brother's death so it's always been personal with you."

"They are responsible."

Nemesis' voice was cold as ice at the mention of his brother.

"I'm sure you're right.' Clark nodded. "I have no doubt you'll get them, but it won't be by using me."

"That isn't your decision to make,' Nemesis said. "I'm the one in control here. I own you remember? One call from me and all this goes away, Kent."

Clark slowly stood up and looked at Nemesis. He had his gun out and was pointing it at Clark's chest.

"You're only in control if I let you be, Nemesis,' Clark flatly stated.

"So what, Kent? You think you can just walk away from this? I never pictured you as a coward,' Nemesis spat out. "Walking away is the coward's way out. Are you going to hide from the bad things of the world, is that it? It doesn't work that way, Kent!"

"I know all about the world, Nemesis,' Clark sadly replied. "The world is a brutal place and even a Superman couldn't change that. If I continue to do what you want me to do, I'll be dead. I recently discovered I don't want that. I'm not a spy and have no training or understanding of that world. I could lie to myself and say I'd figure it out on the fly, but that's the stuff of movies. In the real world, it gets you dead. I'm just a man, Nemesis and death has become very real to me. I'm already out of my depth so the only alternative is to quit. I quit, Nemesis."

Clark started for the door. Nemesis was seething and pointed his gun at Clark.

"If you're not working for me, Mr. Kent then your no use to me at all! I might as well kill you right now!"

As he opened the door, Clark turned and looked at Nemesis.

"But you won't."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't,' Nemesis asked.

"Because you're one of the good guys, remember? You told me yourself."

Clark walked out and closed the door. He could hear Nemesis shouting that it wasn't over, but he didn't stop. He just kept walking away.

* * *

><p>Washington – Two days later<p>

The meeting was schedule for Stanton Park. It was her choice not his. While the park was named after Edwin Stanton the statue featured at the center of the park depicted revolutionary war hero General Nathanael Greene. Greene was honored for his command of the Army of the South and credited with driving the British out of the Carolinas and Georgia in 1782. Greene's statue was surrounded by formal walkways and flowerbeds introduced during the 1933 redesign.

It was early evening and the last rays of sunlight were caressing the horizon. Diana sat on one of the benches watching as the sky changed colors. The mix of yellow, orange, red and deep blue, along with the white and gray of the clouds was like an Impressionist masterpiece constantly changing and shifting into new forms and designs. She felt calm and relaxed. An underlying sadness was present but she knew it wouldn't go away until she dealt with this. Diana heard him before he appeared. As Tom rounded the corner, she stood. He flashed her a smile. He had a bouquet of roses in his hands.

"Hello, Diana."

"Hello Tom."

"I'm glad you finally agreed to meet me,' he said. "These are for you."

"They are lovely,' she said, taking them as he pressed them into her arms.

"I always think of roses when I think of you, Diana, timeless, classic and beautiful."

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure what else to say. He was being his most charming, the gifts, the flattery, but this wasn't their first meeting and they both knew why they were here.

"You said you wanted to talk, Tom,' Diana said. "I'm not sure there is anything left to say."

"I think there is,' he replied. "You've admitted you made a mistake, Diana."

"Yes, I know."

"I've had some time to think and while still don't understand why him, I'm wiling to forgive you. I want us to give this another try."

"Why Tom?"

It was one of the questions that had been running through her mind lately. Why was he fighting so hard for them and she wasn't.

"What do you mean, why, Diana?"

'Why do you want to give us another try, is what I'm asking? I went to another man, Tom. I knew it was a mistake, but I still went,' Diana said. "That will always be there between us."

"So what are you saying? You just want to give up? That doesn't sound like you Diana."

"Normally I'd agree with you,' Diana replied. She set the flowers down and gazed at the last of the sunset. The lights were just starting to come on all around them. She turned and looked at him. "Were you happy the way things were even before this, Tom?"

"Before? What do you mean happy?' He asked.

"It should be a simple question, Tom, were you happy?"

Tom felt things slipping away from him. This wasn't going how he imagined. The sting of her betrayal was still there, but he also didn't want to lose her. There was almost a resigned quality to her voice and posture. It put him on the defensive.

"Yes, Diana, I was happy for the most part,' he finally said. "I take it you weren't?"

"No,' she replied with a shake of her head. "No I wasn't happy for the most part."

"Because of him,' Tom said, some of his anger coming through. "A man you yourself said was mostly a jackass to you. You're going to throw everything we had away for him. I don't believe this!"

"You never listen, Tom. I told you it has nothing to do with him really. This, you and me, it hasn't been working for a while now."

"That's not true! It-It was fine until you went to him,' Tom countered.

"Can you remember the last time we didn't argue Tom?"

"Every couple argues Diana, it's part of being in a relationship. We're different people and it takes time to get comfortable with each other. I thought we were getting to a nice, safe place in our relationship, but you obvious saw it differently."

"Listen to the words you've used to describe our relationship, Tom,' Diana replied. "Fine, comfortable, nice, safe and happy most of the time."

"There just words, Diana, don't make so much out of them."

"Words have meaning, Tom,' she countered. "You've told me about your past relationships, I don't remember you ever describing any of them as comfortable and safe."

"They also ended,' he said. "So this is back on me, huh? You cheat, but I'm the bad guy."

"No, Tom, I've admitted this is my fault, not yours."

"Because you were unhappy, right?" Tom let some of the bitterness come out now. If she was going to end this, he wasn't going to make it easy for her. She was doing this all because of Clark fucking Kent, how pathetic. If Tom didn't already hate him from their last meeting, he hated him now. He was ruining Tom's entire life and didn't even know it. "So what now, Diana? You've done your duty and ended it between us. No one can accuse you of not doing the right thing, even if it took you a little longer than it should have. So what now, Diana? Will you go to him? Is that it? You're picturing Wonder Woman and Superman flying off into the sunset? The Princess and her Shining Knight happily ever after, is that what you imagine is going to happen?"

"No."

"Good, cause that's a fantasy, Diana,' Tom snapped. "He's not Superman, he's not even a hero anymore, he's a coward and a drunk. He isn't flying in to sweep you off your feet, Princess; it doesn't work that way in the real world."

Diana was livid, but she held her temper. She wanted to see this side of Tom, to let him have his say. If this was the end, then she wanted no regrets to remain, no unspoken words left to be said.

"I treated you like a Princess, Diana, not him!" Tom shouted. "I tried to be the man that deserved Wonder Woman, but that wasn't good enough, was it? You were holding out for the fairy tale and went to Prince Charming, only he wasn't Prince Charming was it, Diana? You threw everything away for nothing, a fantasy."

"You never listen to a word I say, do you, Tom?" Her voice was calm, yet there was an edge like a razor to it. "You can believe what you want to believe, it doesn't matter any more, really."

She gave almost a sad chuckle.

"How I didn't see it before, I don't know. I guess I didn't want to see it,' she admitted to herself more than him. "You talk about a fantasy, but that's all I was to you, wasn't I, Tom? You went to bed with Wonder Woman and woke up with just Diana. I wasn't real to you unless I was wearing the armor. I was so stupid not to see it before."

"But you are Wonder Woman,' Tom replied.

"You asked why I went to him and I didn't really know myself,' she said. "Why him? Maybe you just solved that for both of us, Tom. He never saw me as Wonder Woman, he only saw me as Diana."

"And now you'll go to him."

"No, but you wouldn't understand the reasons why. Good bye Tom."

Diana turned and walked away. She didn't look back.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

Clark sat on the patio looking out over the water. A bottle and a glass sat on the table in front of him. The bottle was mostly full for a change. It had been a couple of days since his meeting with Nemesis. He knew he'd be back. Men like him don't give up so easily. It didn't matter really; Clark's decision was final. Let him think he was a coward, in fact let the whole world believe he was a coward for that matter. Only a fool doesn't realize when he's in over his head.

It was so lovely here, Clark thought, but maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time to let go. Lois and Jonathan were dead, that wasn't going to change. His heart still ached at just the thought of them. They deserved so much better than what they got. They all deserved better than what they got.

Life though, marches on relentlessly. You can pray and wish it would stop, crawl into a bottle and run to the ends of the Earth, but it always finds you. It has no mercy for anyone. You are given two choices, Life or Death, that's it. Eventually, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, you have to pick one. Clark finally picked life.

He picked up his glass and made a silent toast to those he'd lost. He wouldn't forget them, but now the only place they would live on was in his memory. He would say good-bye, though. That was part of choosing Life, accepting there will be loses. Wishing and hoping would never change that.

So here he sat alone at what felt like an ending. He would spend this last night mourning and then it would be done. As he raised his glass, Clark heard the loud voices drawing nearer. Then someone bumped into him. He spilled his drink. As he turned he saw a group of what looked like college kids. They had obviously been partying. Phuket was a tourist haven and every once and awhile some of them decided to see the 'real' Thailand.

"Sorry dude, didn't see you sitting there,' the leader said. The others laughed.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, let me buy you a drink,' the lead kid insisted. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and made a great show of it.

"Really, just forget about it,' Clark replied, wanting just to be left alone tonight.

"What are you too good to drink with us? With me,' the kid demanded. "Do you know who I am?"

Great, one of those, Clark thought.

"No."

They always seem so surprised when someone didn't know who they are. Then they always got angry for some reason.

"My dad's a Senator, asshole!"

"Congratulation."

"Hey, Jimmy, I recognize that guy,' one of the others shouted. "He's that guy Horse we saw fight last week!"

Jimmy, the Senator's son made his way around in front of Clark for a better look. The other crowded in closer.

"Yeah, I think you're right, Ted,' Jimmy said. "Yeah, you're that guy, Pale Horse! We watched you get your ass kicked for most of the fight!"

Some of the girls with the boys giggled and laughed at this.

"He did win, Jimmy,' the girl closest to him offered.

"One lucky punch,' Jimmy said, dismissing it. "He doesn't look that tough to me!"

"Look, why don't you guys just take it somewhere else?" Clark said. "I'm not looking for companion or trouble."

"You hear that Nancy, he doesn't want any trouble,' Jimmy said with a laugh.

"Let's just go, Jimmy, leave him alone,' Nancy replied, pulling on Jimmy's arm.

"No, this guy insulted me. Thinks he's too good to drink with me,' Jimmy shouted. "I could buy and sell you, asshole!"

He waved the money in Clark's face. He'd had just about enough of these kids and Clark's temper was starting to rise.

"Move along, boy."

"Fuck you! And I ain't your boy, asshole!"

Jimmy picked up the glass and tossed the drink in Clark's face. Everything got very quiet as Clark slowly stood up. Even without powers, Clark was still an imposing man. He stared hard at Jimmy.

"Leave. I won't tell you again."

Clark could see the fear in Jimmy's eyes, but his friends were watching. Jimmy did something stupid fueled by liquid courage. He threw a punch at Clark. It never made it to its target, as Clark reached out and caught the smaller fist in his large hand. Jimmy was shocked as were the others. He tried to pull his fist free, but Clark didn't let go. He started to squeeze. Jimmy whimpered as slowly Clark brought him to his knees.

"My father's a Senator, asshole! Let me go!"

"Your father's not here, boy,' Clark whispered to him. "Now run along back to where your money means something."

Clark finally released Jimmy's hand and he immediately clutched it to his chest. The others moved over and helped Jimmy up. They were pulling him away as he shouted curses at Clark. Clark just sat back down and poured himself a stiff drink. It was the first of many.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Clark's Hotel – Later<p>

Clark woke up in a daze, his head throbbing. It took him a moment, but slowly he realized he was back in his hotel room. He didn't remember how he got here. Something was wrong. There was an odd smell in the room and he felt wet and sticky. He raised his hand to rub his eyes, but stopped when he saw his hand was covered in blood. What the hell, his brain shouted, trying to process what was going on. As his eyes finally adjusted, Clark looked down and the whole front of his shirt was covered in blood. He sat up a little too quickly; a wave of nausea coming over him that was almost too much for his stomach to handle. Blood was everywhere. He frantically checked himself to see where he was bleeding, but couldn't find any wounds.

That was when he saw the light in the bathroom. There was blood on the door. A sense of dread came over Clark as he got up on shaky legs and moved towards the bathroom. His hand was shaking as he reached out and pushed open the door. For a moment his mind couldn't seem to process what he was looking at, then the horrifying realization hit him. Those kids from the bar, Jimmy and his girlfriend, Nancy, they were both dead. Butchered by the looks of it. Blood was everywhere.

Clark was in a panic. He didn't remember anything. How had they gotten here? How had he gotten here? As he looked down at his bloody hands the horrifying thought came, did I do this? No, no, I couldn't have, he thought. No one will believe me, though. They're dead in my room and I'm covered in blood!

He closed the bathroom door; afraid he'd be sick if he kept looking at the grisly scene. His mind was going a thousand miles an hours trying to understand what had happened. He pulled off his blood soaked shirt and tossed it away. The pitcher and the basin were sitting on the dresser just below the mirror. Clark moved over and poured some water into the basin. He saw his reflection, his eyes wild in shock, blood splattered on his cheeks. Frantically he started washing his face and body, trying to get the blood off. He stripped off all his clothes and tossed them away.

Then he heard the police sirens. They were getting closer every moment. They would be here any moment. They would take one look at the room and it wouldn't matter what he said. He didn't do this, he told himself, but he didn't know what had happened. His most basic instincts kicked in, fight or flight. He picked running. Grabbing some clothes, Clark rushed out of the room and headed down the backstairs. The sirens were so close, almost right on top of the hotel. People were starting to come out of their rooms. Shouts were all around him. He made it to the street and blindly started to run. He only got a block and then a black car pulled up and cut him off. His first thought was the police, but then the back door opened and Suzette leaned out.

"Get in!"

He could hear the police shouting behind him. He lunged into the car and it took off. Julian and Suzette were sitting facing him. They both had serious expressions on their faces. Clark glanced out the window as the buildings went flying by. He turned back to Julian and Suzette wondering how they knew.

"How? How did you get here?"

"A policeman was at the club when the call came in,' Julian explained. "Suzette recognized the address. We came as soon as we could."

"I don't know what happen,' Clark finally managed to say.

"It is very bad, Kal,' Suzette replied.

"You are in deep trouble my friend,' Julian offered. "I would suggest you leave the country now."

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

It was late and Bruce was sitting in front of his computer monitors. He'd already reviewed everything from Gotham and now his full attention was on the wire services. It was burning up the news, a Senator's son had been murdered on holiday in Phuket, Thailand. The killer had escaped and there was a massive man hunt on for name listed for the killer was Kalvin Kent and there was a picture of him. It was from Clark's time in Afghanistan, as was the name. It showed him in a heavy beard, but Bruce knew immediately who it was.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into now, Clark?"


	18. Chapter 18

Horse Under Water

Hong Kong

The vertical city stretched up in front of Clark. The crushing mass of humanity in the world's most densely populated city was just meters away. Blind panic had subsided, but fear was all around. The frantic escape from Thailand had given him no time for questions. Two people were dead and he was the chief suspect. One of the victims had been a U.S. Senator's son. That made it an international story. That meant an international manhunt for one Kalvin Kent.

Suddenly his considerable height and impressive frame were liabilities. He would stand out in any Far East country. It was time to say goodbye to the Orient. Clark nervously paced on the hotel balcony feeling overwhelmed by everything. Julian and Suzette had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to aid him in his escape. The cynic in him thought that was too convenient, but the desperate survivor wasn't going to question any help at this point.

Help. Clark knew he needed help.

His first instinct was to return and try and exonerate himself off all charges. There were two problems with this. One he didn't remember what happened, any of it. In his soul he didn't believe he killed those two, but how they were killed and ended up in his hotel room were a mystery to him. How he ended up in his hotel was a mystery. He doubted the authorities would look kindly on his alibi of 'I don't know.' The second thing that gave him pause was the media coverage already being generated.

The only picture they had of him was from his time in Afghanistan, same with the name. It didn't show him in the best like. Crazed wild man and rogue soldier of fortune were two of the better descriptions he'd heard so far. The current spin on the story had him as a soldier that had seen too much of war and finally snapped. It didn't seem to matter than he'd only been a truck driver. The illegal fighting played right into the narrative they were selling. He was a dangerous, desperate unstable killer and the underlying message was take him down by any means necessary. Shoot to kill.

That meant returning was out of the question. For the life of him though, Clark couldn't remember what happened. He'd been racking his brain trying to remember, but only bits and pieces had returned. He remembered the confrontation with the two and their college friends, but he didn't remember seeing them again. He had finishing the bottle and ordering another but things got foggy after that. He had no memory of returning to his hotel room. Why they were there he couldn't imagine. He could still see the blood. There as so much of it. It wasn't him that did that, he kept telling himself, but he didn't have an alternative explanation.

Julian and Suzette were out at the moment trying to arrange a way out of Hong Kong. The police had already questioned them as associates of his. Clark wasn't sure he trust them, but right now they were the only thing between him and prison or worse. From the information Nemesis had presented Clark knew Julian could be a rather dangerous man, but this didn't seem like his style. Then there was the matter of Suzette. How would she figure into any of this?

Clark knew he was out of his depth and needed help. He needed help from someone he trusted. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked through the numbers. The first person he thought of was Diana. He'd even started to dial her number, but then he stopped. She was a diplomat, an Ambassador representing her people. If it was ever uncovered she had any part of this, it would be a disaster for her and her reputation. He'd already caused her so much pain; he didn't need to bring any more trouble in to her life.

He canceled the call and kept searching. He stopped on a number he hadn't known he still had. It was listed as simply, _in case of extreme emergency only_. This situation certainly seemed to fit that. Clark dialed the number. He wasn't even sure after all this time if it was still working. Then it was picked up on the other end.

"Yes?"

"Bruce, it's Clark. I'm in trouble."

"No shit, Clark."

There was a long pause.

"Where are you now? Are you alone?"

Clark said yes he was alone and named the hotel.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Then the line went dead.

Batman apparently was on the case. Clark felt a suddenly sense of relief at this thought. He knew he was far from out of trouble or danger, but it was the first ray of hope since he woke up in this nightmare.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana watched all the news reports with a rising sense of anxiety.

"Kal, you jackass, what have you done now?' She muttered to herself. Diana didn't for a moment believe he'd done it. Yes, he was infuriating, obnoxious, stubborn and insulting, but he wasn't a killer. She would never believe that. She had called Bruce, but was informed by Alfred he was unavailable at the moment. He would let him know the moment Bruce returned that she'd called.

Diana wanted to do something, anything, but was at a loss for what to do. From the news reports the authorities believed he'd fled the country. He could be anywhere by now. The feeling of being helpless was something she hated. Whatever personal problems she might have with Kal were put aside now. He was a friend in trouble, that was all the mattered to her.

She just wished he'd call her.

* * *

><p>Hong Kong – 8:37 minutes later<p>

There was a knock on the door. Clark felt every nerve in his body jump. Silently moving to the door, he glanced through the peephole. Bruce. Clark opened the door quickly and Bruce walked inside. Clark closed the door and turned to him.

"Thank you, Bruce, I didn't know where else to turn,' he offered. Bruce held up his hand and looked Clark in the eye.

"I'll only ask this once,' Bruce said. "Did you do it?"

"No."

Bruce nodded.

"All right, tell me what happened. Tell me everything."

In a rambling monologue Clark related the events, as he knew them. It wasn't a linear narrative, but Bruce let him tell it his way. He stood watching Clark, his eyes taking in every inch of him, his body language and posture, his facial expressions, his hands, as they seemed to uselessly be grasping for pieces of information that wouldn't come.

"And that's how I got up here,' Clark finally said, finishing his story. He looked at Bruce waiting for a reaction. He didn't get one, as Bruce was all business.

"So your last clear memory was of the bar?"

"Yes."

"Let me see your hands for a moment."

Clark held them out and Bruce seemed to carefully study each one.

"What are you looking for?"

"I've seen the preliminary photos of the crime scene and read some of the first reports,' Bruce explained. "There weren't any wounds from a weapon on the bodies. The theory the police are working on is they were beat to death. Given your recent fights, that just adds more damning evidence against you."

"Beat to death? Oh my God,' Clark gasped in shock.

"There's not a mark on your hands, on you anywhere I can see,' Bruce said, more to himself than Clark. "Take off your shirt."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, Clark, we don't have a lot of time."

Reluctantly Clark stripped off his shirt. Bruce seemed to examine every inch of his chest, arms and back. He stepped away and pulled out a small black bag from his pocket.

"You can put your shirt back on, but roll up your sleeve."

Clark was lost, but did what he was told. Bruce took out a needle and drew a blood sample from Clark's arm. Next he took a scraping of his skin. He bagged both and then the black bag disappeared back into his pocket.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?"

"Evidence,' Bruce replied and then immediately moved on to another topic. "So what are your plans now?"

"You mean besides running?" Clark asked.

"Yes, besides just running."

"Staying away from the police,' Clark lamely offered.

"So no plans,' Bruce replied. "What about your friend, Julian and the girl, Suzette?"

"They're out looking for a way for me to get out of the region."

"I'm just guessing, but they'll find a way."

"You think they're involved,' Clark asked.

"It's a possibility, but I wouldn't rule out anything at this point,' Bruce replied. "Whether they are or aren't involved, I think they're your best bet to not get caught. Officially the League can't be seen as helping you, Clark. I'm sorry."

"No, I understand, Bruce." Clark said.

"Maybe Diana could get you to Themyscira for the time being,' Bruce suggested.

"No, I don't want to involve her in this,' Clark immediately replied. "She's got larger concerns and I wouldn't want her to put those at risk for me."

"I understand,' Bruce said. "You know she's not going to be happy about it, though."

"Well, she's already pissed at me anyway,' Clark admitted. "I guess she can slap me twice when she sees me again."

"Slap you?"

"Yes, I've got it coming."

"Putting that aside, I'll do what I can, Clark. Someone set you up and I'll find out who and why. I promise."

"Thank you."

Clark held out his hand and Bruce shook it.

"Stay in touch, where ever you go,' Bruce said. He pulled a new phone from his pocket and handed it to Clark along with a debit card.

"They might have you cell by now, so toss it,' Bruce explained. "This one is untraceable. You'll need money, so this will have a rolling credit account for you."

"Um, well, thank you, Bruce,' Clark fumbled to say as he took the phone and card. "I do appreciate the help. I wasn't even sure that number still worked."

"Yes, I kept it, but it hasn't been used in 13 years," Bruce replied. "Stay safe until we can figured this out, Clark."

* * *

><p>Hong Kong – Street level<p>

As Suzette moved among the stalls picking out articles of men's clothing, Nemesis watched from the shadows. He'd followed Clark here from Phuket. He lost him momentarily, but picked up Suzette's trail. She would lead him to Clark. A cold smile came to his face.

"I told you Kent, you were in this and you don't just walk away,' he whispered. The men behind Tom's brother's death were still out there. He had made it his mission in life to see they pay for it. Kent may have destroyed things between Diana and Tom, but he wasn't going to do the same to the mission. Very shortly Tom would make that very plain to Mr. Kent.

* * *

><p>The Watchtower – Later<p>

Diana was pacing as Bruce and Jonn waited for the test results on Clark's blood.

"Why is it taking so long,' she asked in exasperation.

"It's not taking any longer than it usually does, Diana,' Bruce replied.

She stopped pacing and turned to the two of them.

"I know, it's just frustrating not being able to do anything,' she admitted. "I could have helped if he'd just called me."

"He said he didn't want to get you involved."

"Yet he called you and got you involved," Diana pointed out.

"I'm not the Ambassador for Themyscira, Diana, you are,' Bruce countered. "I think he made the right decision. If word leaked out that you helped a fugitive it would not be good for you or Themyscira."

"He was trying to protect you, Diana,' Jonn added.

"I think he's just being stubborn and infuriating. He's very good at that."

"Well, if it makes it any better he did say to tell you next time you see him you can slap him twice,' Bruce offered.

"He won't get off that easy,' Diana muttered.

"You have slapped him before,' Jonn asked.

"Yes,' Diana reluctantly admitted. She didn't want to go into the details.

"How hard did you slap him,' Bruce asked.

"Not full strength, but hard,' Diana replied. "Very hard, but he had it coming, believe me! Kryptonians are much harder to break then humans, according to him."

A klaxon when off and Dinah's voice came over the speaker.

"We have a situation in South America, Diana, could you report to the transporter room?"

Diana was torn between wanting to stay and help prove Kal was innocent and her duty. Her duty won out.

"I'm on my way,' she replied to Dinah. She then turned to Bruce and Jonn. "You two are detectives, so prove he's innocent."

"And if he's not,' Bruce asked.

She moved over and stood directly in front of Bruce.

"I don't believe that for one minute,' she said. "But if he's guilty, then prove it to me. You're the detective, Bruce, figure this out."

"Diana, the test results won't be ready for a couple more hours,' Jonn said. "We'll keep you up to date on everything."

"Thank you, Jonn and you too, Bruce."

She was out the door in the next moment.

"She seems much more fiery than usual today,' Jonn observed.

"Almost like in the old days when we first started this,' Bruce mused with a small smile.

"Yes, Diana had quite the temper when she first came out from Themyscira.' Jonn agreed.

"She still does, she just controls it much better after all these years,' Bruce replied.

"Except where Clark is concerned, apparently,' Jon said.

"So nothing's changed."

"Yes, he always did seemed to get under her skin back in the day,' Jonn said with a smile. "As I recall, you did as well, Bruce."

"That's not the way I remember it at all,' Bruce stiffly replied.

"Of course,' Jonn replied. "I must be remembering it wrong."

"You must be."

Bruce turned back to the microscope and began working. Jonn had been watching for several minutes when he finally spoke.

"There's something else, isn't there? Something you didn't mention to Diana?"

"Reading my mind, Jonn?"

"No, but I was a police officer for several years, Bruce, I know about observation,' Jonn replied. "You took more blood than you needed for Ray to test it. Skin samples also point to something beyond this current crisis."

Bruce turned to him.

"Very observant, Jonn,' he said.

"And?"

"And yes, there is something else, but the current matter is the most important."

"What is the other matter, perhaps I could help,' Jonn offered.

Bruce seemed to weight this and then moved over and pulled out three photos. One was of Clark as Jordan Elliot, one was the photo that was circulating from Afghanistan and the last was Clark as Superman. Jonn looked at all of them, but waited for an explanation.

"This is what Clark looked like when he gave up his powers,' Bruce said, pointing to the picture of Superman. He moved his finger to the picture of Jordan Elliot. "This is what he looked like for the ten years he was married to Lois and the other was taken within the last year."

"All right."

"When Diana and I saw him in Thailand he looked like this again, Jonn,' Bruce said, pointing to the Superman photo. "He hadn't aged a day. This picture of Jordan Elliot is all an illusion of hair coloring and cosmetic tricks."

"Kryptonians are known to have longer life spans than humans, Bruce,' Jonn offered.

"Yes, but he literally hadn't aged any more than Diana has, Jonn,' Bruce replied. "It got me to thinking, what do we really know about Kryptonians? The records in the former Fortress of Solitude and our own observations of Clark, that's it."

"They were a very advance people before their world ended."

"Yes, but I'm not thinking of their science, Jonn, I'm wondering about the Kryptonians themselves,' Bruce countered. "On the most basic level their bodies were amazing machines. Under a yellow sun they were extraordinary."

Bruce had Jonn's full attention now.

"Go on."

"As I said, all we have as far as information comes from them. Much of them were extrapolations about what would happen to a Kryptonian under a yellow sun."

"They seemed very accurate in their predictions, Bruce,' Jonn offered.

"Yes, that's true, but I don't recall every seeing anything about long term exposure to a yellow sun,' Bruce replied. "Green Kryptonite is deadly, Gold Kryptonite strips them of their powers, but what does continuing to live under a yellow sun do in relation to all of it?"

"I see where you are going, but there's been no proof of that, Bruce,' Jonn objected.

"Jonn, the fight Diana and I watched Clark took a beating,' Bruce stated. "It was a terrible beating. A normal man would have been crippled, but we saw Clark an hour later and he only had cuts and a few bruises."

"I believe Diana said Kryptonians are harder to break, Bruce."

"Yes, but Clark has had more fights since then, but when I examined him earlier today there wasn't a mark on him. Nothing, not even a scratch,' Bruce replied.

"So that's why you asked Diana how hard she slapped him?"

"Yes, she said it wasn't full power, but very hard,' Bruce continued. "A very hard slap from Diana, even if it wasn't full strength could easily kill a man or at least dislocate his jaw. Not a mark on him, Jonn."

"Are you saying you think he's powers are returning,' Jonn asked.

"That's what I want to find out,' Bruce replied. "13 years have passed since he gave them all away. All those years under a yellow sun may mean Gold Kryptonite doesn't take them away forever. It may take decades, but this could be the first sign that he still has them."

"And given his lifespan as you mentioned, he will live a very long time,' Jonn added. "In 30 years perhaps they will have all returned."

"Yes, Jonn, a fully grown, mature Kryptonian in command of all his powers, just think of it,' Bruce stated. "Clark was a young man when he was Superman. He was just starting to tap into his potential when he gave it all up."

"The implications could be staggering, Bruce, not just for Earth, but the rest of the galaxy,' Jonn said in agreement.

"It's only a theory at this point,' Bruce quickly said. "That's why I haven't discussed it with anyone else. This may be just something, a healing factor that all Kryptonians had and that's it. As I said, their bodies are remarkable machines; it would explain their long lifespan though. The point is we don't know. I don't like not knowing Jonn."

"Either way, it is something we should look into,' Jonn replied. "I will due some digging into the archives we still have from the Fortress and see what I can find out."

'Good, but first, I think we have to concentrate on figuring out what's happening to him now,' Bruce countered. "If he didn't do it, which I don't think he did, then someone or a group of people has gone to a lot of trouble to set him up. I want to know why."

* * *

><p>Hong Kong<p>

Julian and Suzette had returned. She bought him some new clothes and he quickly changed.

"We have some good news, Horse,' Julian said with a smile.

"I could use some good news."

"The authorities believe you are no longer in Thailand and that you have escaped further East in hopes of finding a way back to America. They are watching every airport between Laos and the Philippines for you. It is impossible for you to try and get on a plane without them catching you,' Julian informed him.

"I thought you said you had good news?"

Suzette smiled and Julian laughed. He moved over to the bar and took out a bottle of champagne. He selected three glasses and opened the bottle. He poured them each a glass and then handed one each to Clark and Suzette.

"So are you going to keep me in suspense?" Clark asked.

"Impatience, a sign of youth,' Julian lamented. 'Suzette was the same way until I told her."

"I know you love this little game, Julian, but just tell him,' she said.

"As you wish, my dear,' Julian said with a bow. He turned to Clark again and took a sip of the champagne. "As I said they are looking for you to try and fly out from all points east with the destination of America. Flying is not the only mode of transportation, nor is America the only destination available, Horse."

"We're taking a boat to the north, Kal.' Suzette cut in.

"Impatience."

"North?"

"Vladivostok.' Suzette said. "Russia, Kal. We can take a train from there and be in Europe in a few days."

"There is a junk sitting just outside the harbor that will take us out to a freighter a friend has kindly allowed us to travel on,' Julian added. 'While they search for you in one direction, we shall disappear into another."

"A friend, huh?" Clark said.

"Yes,' Julian replied with a nod. 'He is doing this as a favor to you and to me. He will expect to be repaid, Horse."

"I don't have that much money, Julian."

"You misunderstand, this isn't the sort of favor you repay with cash. You repay it by doing a favor for him."

"What sort of favor?"

"Who can say?' Julian offered. "It is a debt of honor and must be repaid though."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that,' Clark said.

"Kal, you can't stay here,' Suzette reminded him. "Deal with the situation at hand first and worry about the rest later."

"Wise words, Horse, you should listen to her,' Julian added.

The whole set up felt wrong to Clark, but he really didn't have a lot of options. The people he knew and trusted, he didn't want to get involved in this. He didn't know anyone in this part of the world, so he was at Julian and Suzette's mercy. They offered the best option at this point.

"All right, we'll do it your way,' he finally said.

"There is also the matter of a passport,' Julian said. "A good one is difficult to get these days. Terrorists had made governments much more suspicious. A tragedy really, how no one trusts anyone anymore but we must adapt. This will cost another favor, Horse. A big one."

"I have a passport."

"Yes, but they will be looking for Kalvin Kent everywhere. Kalvin is not a good name for you anyway, Horse."

"It didn't seem to matter at the time,' Clark admitted. "I wasn't referring to that one anyway. I have another that is legal."

This seemed to surprise both Julian and Suzette.

"The plot thickens,' Julian replied with a smile. "A mysterious past for our intrepid friend, that is just marvelous. Good, good, that will save us time. The boat will be ready this evening."

"One question, how are we supposed to get to this junk? The police have already questioned both of you. They will be watching your every movement. That means they will watch you go out to this junk and probably stop it and search."

Julian and Suzette looked at each other and smiled. She slowly walked over to Clark and put her arms around his neck.

"How good a swimmer, are you, Kal?"

* * *

><p>Washington – Later<p>

Diana had returned for the mission. There was still no news, well, any good news. Somehow she had managed to make it through her scheduled events and meetings, but her mind was elsewhere. Her other responsibilities were finally finished. She stood in her office, too keyed up to sit for more than a moment. She kept glancing at her desk. On top of it was her League communicator and her phone. It was the phone she hoped would ring first, but it still hadn't.

He's protecting me, she thought in disgust, the idiot! She didn't need protecting and certainly not from him. If anything, if she had her hands on him right now, he would be the one needing protection! Why did he always have to be so infuriating? He was being stupid and deserved to get caught. She hoped he didn't, but it would serve him right for not calling her.

"Damn it, Kal, call me,' she whispered.

* * *

><p>Hong Kong – Later<p>

Clark watched from a safe distance as Julian and Suzette motored out to the junk. Police boats immediately swarmed in the moment they reached it. It was happening just the way they said it would. Time to move. He was almost to the water's edge when he heard the click of the gun's safety being released.

"Going for a swim, Mr. Kent?"

Clark turned to see Nemesis holding a gun on him. There was a cold smile on his face as he stared at Clark.

"Nemesis,' Clark said, raising his hands. "I didn't kill those two."

"I know."

"Wh-What?"

"I'm not here to arrest you, Kent, you're still much too valuable,' Nemesis explained. "I told you once you couldn't just walk away. I think you're realizing that, aren't you? So your 'friends' Julian Grinka and the whore are helping you. How sweet. Take this with you."

Nemesis held out a small business card, which Clark reluctantly accepted. It had a drawing of the scales of justice on it and an international number below. Clark glanced back at him with a confused look.

"It's my number,' Nemesis said. "The card's waterproof, but you should probably put it in your little bag there. You don't want to loss it."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to be calling it every two weeks from now on,' Nemesis informed him. "You're going to tell me everything. I want to know whom you meet and where you met them. Your friend Julian has friends in lots of places and I want to know everyone of them."

"Why would I do that, Nemesis,' Clark asked. He disliked this man intensely now.

"Because I'm valuable to you now as well, Mr. Kent,' Nemesis explained. "You're a wanted man. The word has already gone out, shoot to kill. I on the other hand, am a man well place to know what every police and intelligence agency in the world is doing. I can let you know if they're getting close to you. I can help you stay one step ahead of the gallows."

"And if I don't want your help?"

"Then you'll never make it out to that ship,' Nemesis calmly replied. "It's a favor trade, Mr. Kent, your life for information."

"You're not giving me much choice are you?"

"None. Oh and there is one more thing."

Nemesis suddenly hauled off and punched Clark. His lip split, but he took the blow much better than Nemesis hoped for. He had the gun pointed at him again before he could react.

"You deserve a bullet, but that will have to do."

Tom was sorely tempted to kill him for causing his break up with Diana, but he didn't. He hated Clark, but that would have to wait. The men that killed his brother were still out there. That had to be his priority. When that was done, who knows, Tom thought.

"Now, before you get the urge to do something stupid, Mr. Kent, I should inform you that the Hong Kong police received an anonymous tip just a short time ago that you were here. They should be arriving any moment.'

"You son of a bitch,' Clark grumbled.

"You don't know the half of it, Mr. Kent, now I'd advise you to get swimming,' Nemesis replied. "Make sure you call or your little flight to freedom will be over before you know it."

"We're going to meet again, Nemesis and when we do, you and I are going to have a reckoning. I promise you that."

The look on Clark's face was as hard and focused as Nemesis had ever seen from him. The threat behind his words was plain.

"Well aren't you old school, a reckoning? I'll look forward to it,' Nemesis finally replied. "Now, though, I think it's time you got moving."

In the distance, sirens and the sound of car doors slamming could be heard. The rush of feet followed it. Clark took one last look at Nemesis and then leapt off the edge and into the water. Moments later the police arrived, but found nothing.

* * *

><p>Hong Kong Harbor<p>

A mile off shore a junk sat at anchor, bobbing in the current. The police had searched every inch of it and found nothing. Julian had chatted and joked with the officers the whole time. Despite themselves, they liked the old man. The woman traveling with him was certainly easy on the eyes too. When their search turned up nothing, they apologized for the delay. Julian dismissed this, saying they were only doing their jobs. He even wished them luck as they got back on their boats and motored away.

Twenty minutes later, a hand emerged from the murky water. Clark pulled himself up and collapsed on the deck in exhaustion. He could feel the anchor being raised and the junk begin to move. Suzette was smiling down at him.

"We didn't see you approach, not even a ripple on the surface. You are full of surprises, aren't you?" She said. "A Horse Under Water."


	19. Chapter 19

The Thin Line

Gotham – One Month Later

It was late, yet Bruce was still at it. His back hurt, his legs felt the weight of hours of strain, but his mind was still sharp. He some times felt like a performer, a plate spinner to be exact, trying to keep all the plates in the air and not crashing. His usual heavy load, Gotham, Wayne Enterprises, The Justice League and on and on had been added to with Clark's troubles. As his fingers danced over the keyboards, he absently thought of how many hours he'd spent sitting here in the Batcave over his career. There always seemed to be one more detail, one more nugget of information that might not help in the moment, but could be stored away for a future date.

Dick hadn't given him an answer yet.

Bruce didn't want to push him. He wanted it to be Dick's decision to take over the mantel of Batman one day, but waiting was a little frustrating. So much history seemed tied up in it, yet Bruce hoped Dick could see past all that. The central idea in all of it right from the start was Gotham needed a protector. It needed someone that couldn't be bought and paid for like so many had in the past. It needed a symbol to let honest people know that someone had drawn a line and was looking out for them.

Bruce knew only too well that Gotham could easily slip back to the old way of doing things. Over its history good men had stood up from time to time to fight the corruption, but ultimately they paid the price and the city went back to its corrupt ways. Not this time, Bruce promised himself. This time the mantel would be passed and then when Dick's time was up it would be passed again. Batman would become immortal, a symbol that the old ways were finally gone for good.

He just needed Dick to say yes.

He shifted his focus to the matter at hand, Clark. Ray had discovered a drug in Clark's blood. The drug was Flunitrazepam or more commonly known as Rohypnol. It made sense that whoever set Clark up would use something like that. Flunitrazepam is known to induce anterograde amnesia in sufficient doses; individuals are unable to remember certain events that they experienced while under the influence of the drug. Victims may be unable to clearly recall an assault, the assailant, or the events surrounding the assault.

Very often, biological samples are taken from the victim at a time when the effects of the drug have already passed and only residual amounts remain in the body fluids. These residual amounts are difficult, and sometimes impossible, to detect using standard screening available in the United States. Recent advances have been discovered so that scientists could now detect Flunitrazepam and related compounds in urine at least up to 5 days after administration of a single dose of Rohypnol and up to a month in hair.

This information had quietly been passed to the Thai police and it subsequently came out that the victims showed traces as well. It was a good first step, but Clark was far from out of the woods. Quietly some on the police were starting to have their doubts about whether Clark actually killed the two. There was no physical evidence linking him to it. Killing someone with your bare hands tends to be a messy business. The victims usually scream, fight, claw, anything to try and survive. There were no reports from any of the guests at the hotel of screaming and no skin or tissue was found under the fingernails of the victims. Those questions though, stayed in house. The police in any country tend to be like the media, they like a nice simple explanation. Crazed ex-soldier kills two was about as simple as it got.

Quietly though, other stories had been filtering out into the media. Clark's time in Afghanistan suddenly took on a new light as it was shown he wasn't a soldier at all but a truck driver. The story of the company liaison and Clark's role in exposing him was rehashed. 3 men had died, yet he worked through the media and courts to get justice didn't fit with the simple narrative that had been painted. Other stories began to appear, about how the locals saw Clark. From his coworkers in Afghanistan to the other residences of the hotel in Phuket, they spoke of a quiet, sad, gentle man.

Bruce was sure he saw the soft, feminine handiwork behind these stories. It seemed all those years as a diplomat had taught Diana well how to use the media. The fact that Clark still hadn't called her was a sore spot. When Bruce spoke to him to relate the news about the drug, he'd gotten a promise out of Clark that he would. Hopefully that would ease some of the tension everyone felt around Diana on the Tower. Although with those two, Bruce couldn't be sure.

It did make it much more complicated that it happened in Phuket. It wasn't like Batman could just pop in halfway around the globe for a little investigating. That meant he had to do it long distance and that significantly slowed the process. The drugs provided the means for how it happened, but why and who was still a mystery. As long as there weren't any other suspects, Clark had a target on his back. A back channel into the Phuket police department got Bruce a copy of everything they had, but it wasn't nearly enough. This morning he'd finally gotten video from a surveillance camera on a bank ATM across the street from the hotel.

It was a long shot, but at this point Bruce needed something. He'd run the video from the day of the murders through the computers with a facial recognition filter, but got nothing. He'd just finished watching it all himself, hoping to spot something, no matter how small, but Clark or the victims were never shown returning to the hotel. He had tape from the entire week and that would be a long process. It had to be done though, so Bruce started the computers analyzing all of it. With a sigh, he pushed his weary body away from the console and finally headed up to bed. The data would be ready when he got up in the morning.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Suzette smiled as she slipped under the covers of her large King size bed. It was early, but they would be going on later so she decided to just relax for a while. She was thoroughly enjoying all of this. Life in Phuket had lost its charm some time ago and this felt like a fresh start, an adventure to her. She was certainly well aware of Julian's plans, but since they benefited her, she had no complains. She was a young, beautiful and intelligent woman and the world seemed full of possibilities to her.

She giggled to herself as she remembered the looks on Julian and Kal's face when she informed them she wanted a room of her own. The boat trip to Vladivostok and then the long train ride to Moscow she had spent mostly in Kal's room. It had been exhilarating and passionate, but as they arrived in Moscow she thought their relationship needed redefining. If Julian could have his games, then so could she. Always in the past, it was Kal that came to her. He dictated terms of when and how often they were together. This gave him the element of control and Suzette didn't like that. She never wanted to be subject to anyone's control. Julian understood this, and now Kal would too.

She went to him when she wanted to now.

The other part was she realized that opportunities were waiting for her on this trip. Europe had always fascinated her. Yes, she liked having sex with Kal very much, but she wasn't going to tie herself to one man, certainly not him. Just casually walking around Moscow she already had a hint of the possibilities. Rich, influential men were all around it seemed and Europe just promised more of the same. She would do her part in Julian's scheme, but would always have an eye out for herself first.

As she turned off the light, she decided she wouldn't go to Kal again tonight. That made a week straight they hadn't been together. When she did finally go to him, he would understand who was in control.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

It was early and he knew Julian and Suzette had plans for them later, but that wasn't on his mind at the moment. There was some relative safety in Moscow, but he was always aware that things could change in a heartbeat. As much as he hated it, he'd called Nemesis and filled him in on what had transpired. None of this was his focus at the moment, though. Clark sat on the side of his bed looking down at his phone. He'd been putting off making the call for too long, he knew. He could just imagine how pissed she was by now. He wasn't so stupid or so caught up in himself that he hadn't noticed the stories that had started to circulate. Those weren't Bruce's style, so it didn't take a huge leap to realize who had placed them.

She just couldn't let it alone, could she, he thought? She had to be the most difficult, stubborn woman he'd ever met and that was saying something. He wanted to keep her out of this mess. She was an Ambassador, for crying out loud it was too risky! He would never forgive himself if this boomeranged back on her. But that wasn't the reason he hadn't called though. He was grateful for her help, but he couldn't get their last meeting out of his mind. He'd been such an insensitive jerk to her, only thinking of himself. If he called her he would have to apologize again and Clark wasn't sure he knew if there were any words for that.

Sorry I rejected and probably humiliated you, Diana wasn't something you just gloss over. All the orchids and notes in the world weren't going to make up for that. He'd put it off too long though. It was time. He just hoped she wouldn't start asking questions about where he was or anything to do with the murders. Just discussing something like that put her at risk for being an accomplice and he vowed that wasn't going to happen. As he started dialing the number, he had a sinking feeling she probably would ask those questions though.

* * *

><p>Washington – Themysciran Embassy<p>

It was very late. The business day was over and Diana had already put in a full shift on the Tower on top of her Ambassador duties. She was in her private quarters and had just changed into her nightgown and robe. At a luncheon earlier she had related some gossip to another foreign minister about how the case of the Senator's son's murder wasn't turning out the way it was being reported. She couched it as gossip, knowing diplomats love gossip more than anyone. She also knew this particular foreign minister had a brother that worked for his country's national television station. She smiled as she thought how it would probably be in tomorrow's news report.

She was just turning down her bed when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Diana."

She knew the deep baritone voice immediately. Her first reaction was relief that he finally called. Her second reaction was anger that it had taken him this long. It only took a split second for both of them.

"Oh, hello, Kal, so you finally decided to call me,' she said. "I should just hang up on you for taking so long."

"You wouldn't hang up on me, Diana,' he replied.

- Click –

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark glanced down at the phone in shock.

"She hung up on me!"

He couldn't believe it; she'd hung up on him. For a second he just sat there staring at the phone. He felt his temper starting to rise as he quickly redialed the number.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

The phone rang again. Diana waited until the fourth ring and then picked it up.

"Hello?"

"You hung up on me!"

"Yes, I did, Kal."

"Here I promise Bruce I'll call you and you hang up on me!"

"Oh, so that's the only reason you called me? Nice Kal."

- Click –

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

"She did it again,' he grumbled. "She hung up on me!"

There was something very familiar about this and Clark was getting pissed. Why had he made that promise to Bruce that he would call her, he thought? She was without a doubt the most infuriating woman! He jammed his thumb into the keys once again and dialed the number.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

The phone rang again. A little smile was on Diana's lips as she let it ring five times before picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Diana if you hang up on me again, I'm not calling back,' he warned.

She didn't want that. He seemed to wait for several seconds to make sure she wasn't going to hang up again.

"So where are you, Kal?' She finally said.

"Diana, you know I can't tell you that."

"Oh, right, you're protecting me,' she snidely replied. Idiot, she thought to herself.

"Diana, if we talk about any of that, you'd be an accomplice,' Clark stated. "I know you want to help and thank you, but I can't let you risk that."

"Shouldn't that be my choice, Kal,' She countered.

"Not this time, Diana."

Why was he always so pig-headed she thought?

"So if I can't ask anything about that, why are you calling? Is it just because Bruce made you promise?"

"No.'

"Than why?"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark heard the question and knew what he was going to have to say. This was one of the hardest things he'd had to do, but it was the reason for the call. He decided to jump right in.

"I called about the last time we saw each other, Diana."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana stiffened at the mere mention of that night. Time had passed but she certainly hadn't forgotten or forgiven him.

"What about it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, I got your notes."

Her voice was almost brittle in response. All the feelings from that night came rushing back.

"I was selfish and stupid, Diana."

"Yes, you were."

"If you'll listen, I'd like to explain?"

"Go ahead."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark was on his feet, trying to find the right words. He could hear in her tone that the hurt was still fresh in her mind. He knew nothing but the truth would be good enough.

"When I saw you in the lounge, Diana, I was overwhelmed,' he began. "I don't believe I'd ever seen you more beautiful. When you kissed me, I suddenly wanted you more than I've wanted anything in a long time. I don't even remember the trip up to your room. We were in each other's arms and it felt so right, but then I thought you were pulling away. I wasn't thinking of things from your point of view, only my own. I know that's selfish, but that's the truth. It felt like you were rejecting me and I got angry."

"You thought I was rejecting you?"

"Yes."

"So you rejected me instead,' Diana replied. "Brilliant Kal. How stupid are you?"

"Apparently very stupid."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana smiled despite herself at his admission. It surprise her, in fact all of this surprised her.

"Yes, you are, Kal, very stupid."

"I know."

"Really stupid, monumentally stupid,' Diana added.

"Okay, Diana, I think I got the idea,' he replied. She could hear the irritation in his voice. She smiled just a bit more.

"Well, you had that coming, and more for that matter,' she offered.

"I know. I wasn't thinking about how it must be for you. How you always have to worry about staying in control. It's been so long since I thought about something like that it didn't occur to me till later."

"And yet you didn't call till now."

"Would you have taken my call right after that,' he asked.

"No."

"I know I hurt you, probably humiliated you, but I wasn't thinking of that at the time, I promise,' he explained. "I just felt like you went passive all at once and I thought you were regretting it. That it was out of pity you were there. That you felt sorry for me. I hated that feeling and that's why I got so upset. I realized how wrong that was now and I'm sorry.'

"And stupid, Kal,' Diana added. "Pity? You thought I would sleep with you out of pity? That's almost as insulting as you rejecting me!"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark winced as he heard the anger come into her voice. Oh, boy, I screwed it up again, he thought.

"Okay, maybe pity wasn't the right word." He back-pedaled.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana was standing, her hand clinched in fist on her hip. Anger flashed across her lovely features.

"Oh, really? What word would be the right one, Kal,' Diana demanded. Pity! She didn't believe him! Just when she was considering forgiving him, he says something even more insulting and pisses her off again. He is the most infuriating man she had ever met!

"I'm waiting, Kal!"

"I thought you were feeling sorry for me." He seemed to pause for a moment as if he were thinking of his next words very carefully. "No, it was pity, I'm sorry, but that's the way I was thinking at the time. I thought you pitied me and as low as I might have been, that was one thing I couldn't take, Diana. I got so angry when I thought of it; I just lashed out at you. That was the one thing I didn't want from you. Your anger, your hatred, anything but that, Diana."

"I never pitied you, Kal,' she replied. "Yes, I felt sorry for what had happened, but I would never do that out of pity."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark stopped pacing. He had to know, even if the answer was what he thought.

"So was that night just about you feeling sorry for me, Diana?"

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"No, Kal,' she immediately replied. "What sort of woman do you think I am? I'd never sleep with someone because I felt sorry for them! I was there because I wanted to be there, you idiot!'

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

This caught Clark completely off guard.

"Oh really?"

"Yes!"

"So you came there to seduce me? Really?'

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana realized she'd said too much in her anger. She didn't want him to know that was the only reason she'd gone.

"Well it wasn't the only reason,' she offered. It was a lie, but he didn't have to know that.

"I'm flattered, Diana."

"Well, don't be, it won't happen again,' she fired back.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

He heard the anger and knew he'd touched the wrong subject. He was genuinely surprised though by her statement.

"Of course and again, I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"You should be."

"I am. I made a mistake, Diana, probably a lot of mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt you, I hope you believe that if nothing else,' he said.

She thought she could hear the sincerity in his voice and then did lessen her anger a bit.

"I'll think about it."

She sat down on her bed and began to fuss with the belt on her robe. She appreciated his words, but she still wanted to know where he was.

"So is it late where you are, Kal,' she innocently asked.

"Diana, I'm not telling you that,' he replied.

"Why? It's just a harmless question?"

"If you say so, I'm still not telling you."

"Well is it warm there? Do you need a jacket or somethign heavier?' She asked. "That's not asking too much, is it?"

"Diana, I'm not telling you where I'm at."

"How about just a hint?'

"No."

"You're being stupid again, Kal,' she complained. "I don't need you protecting me!"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Silently he mouthed the words _give me patience_.

"Diana, suppose someone was killed on Themyscira and the chief suspect got away from the island,' he asked. "What would your government and you as their Ambassador do if you found out he was in some other country?'

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"First of all a man would never get that chance. I guess given that scenario it would depend on if we had a treaty or not with the country the suspect was in,' Diana automatically replied. "If we had relations with them and a treaty of extradition I would formally request they turn the suspect over to us."

"Does Themyscira have such a treaty with many countries?"

"Yes."

She knew what he was doing and she didn't like it one bit.

"Just telling me where you are, Kal doesn't invoke any of those treaties. I also have diplomatic immunity for your information."

"Yes, but you would still be an accomplice,' he replied. "Look, I know you want to help and I do appreciate it. Thank you for the stories I know you've been placing by the way. I also know if I ask you not to, you won't listen to me, so I'm going to do it this way. I'm sorry, but I don't want to risk you getting involved."

A frown came over Diana's face, as she didn't like this at all. She stood up and started pacing. Her frustration with him starting to build again.

"So if I can't ask you any questions about where you are or about the case, what are we going to talk about?"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

A smile came to Clark's face at her question. Even in the middle of all this craziness, he couldn't help teasing her just a bit.

"So what are you wearing?"

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana stopped in her tracks. Her expression was one of shock.

"Why?"

"Well, it's something to talk about,' he offered.

"I'm wearing a nightgown, robe and fuzzy pink slippers, satisfied?'

"You're really terrible at this, you know,' he said with a chuckle. "Fuzzy pink slippers, that's so hot, Diana, tell me more."

Her expression changed from shock to anger as she realized what he was doing.

"I'm not doing that, Kal and certainly not with you on the phone!"

"You're no fun."

"And you're an idiot!" She fired back. "Here you are a fugitive, wanted by half the world and that's what you're thinking about?"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark could hear plainly she was not amused.

"Okay, relax, Diana, it was a thought."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"A stupid one!"

"Oh, come on, I'll bet you look really hot in those fuzzy pink slippers,' he replied.

She knew he was teasing her, so she decided to give him some of his own medicine.

"I guess since you won't tell me where you are, you'll never know how hot, will you, Kal?"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

He caught the playful note in her voice and smiled.

"Well I do have a really good imagination, Diana," he countered. "Plus I have seen you naked before so I can almost picture it in my mind right now.'

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Stop it, Kal, there will be no picturing me naked, do you hear?' She ordered.

"It's a nice picture,' he teased.

"Well, that's too bad, think of me fully clothed,' she fired back.

"I thought Amazons weren't ashamed of their bodies?"

"Normally we aren't but I don't want you thinking about me like that! Certainly not over the phone!"

"How do you want me to picture you, Diana?"

A smile came to her face.

"Remember that day in the gym when I tried to teach you to fight?"

"How could I forget?"

"Remember in the second hour when you were bloody, sprawled out on the floor from me knocking you down again? Remember how I smiled down at you and asked if you were ready to go again?"

"You mean where you hadn't even broke a sweat and seemed to be really enjoying beating me up?"

""Yes."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Good, picture me like that, Kal."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark glanced out the window. It was a habit he'd acquired since he'd been on the run.

"That's not really doing too much for me, Diana."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Good."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark moved away from the window and sat back down on his bed. He smiled as he held the phone to his ear.

"How about instead I picture you from the Wayne Gala during the first year of the League?'

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana was caught off guard.

"The Wayne Gala?"

"Yes, it was right after we all started the Justice League,' Clark replied. "Bruce was holding a party and actually invited us. I remember turning as a buzz went through the crowd. You were standing on the top step of the ballroom. You were nervous, but I doubt most people could tell. You wore a black dress along with your tiara and earrings. Every eye in the place was on you, yet you handled it all with poise and grace. We danced once that night, remember?"

Diana sat back down on her bed as the memory came back to her.

"Yes."

"It was your first social event other than some Embassy functions and you were nervous,' he continued. "I could feel you tremble ever so faintly as we danced. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

Diana remembered that wasn't why she was trembling, but didn't mention the real reason to him.

"I'm surprised you remember that after all these years, Kal."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark was leaning back on his bed. His expression wasn't playful anymore.

"I remember every detail, Diana."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana suddenly felt herself trembling again. This is silly, she thought, I'm a grown woman. She quickly shifted the topic away from that night.

"So are you doing any dancing where you're at now, Kal?' She asked. "Is there a local dance that's popular there?"

She heard him laugh on the other end and had to smile.

"You never give up, do you, Diana?"

"No, so why don't you just tell me."

"Good night, Diana."

"Wait!"

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark suddenly sat up on he bed, worried.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted you to promise to call me again."

Clark smiled.

"I promise, Diana."

"Good,' she replied. "You can tell me where you are next time. Good night, Kal."

"Good night, Diana."

* * *

><p>Gotham – The Next Morning<p>

Bruce was still tired as he made his way down the steps to the Batcave. Too many years and too little sleep seemed to be catching up with him. It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning, but he continued to will himself everyday. He had a cup of coffee in his hand as he took his seat in front of the computers. He checked his messages, categorizing them by importance and urgency of response needed. Finally he turned to the computer and switched on the facial recognition program. In super fast speed he watched a week's worth of recognizable people move across the screen. It was mostly Clark, but occasionally Suzette or Julian would appear. Then as he was just about to give up, thinking it was a dead end, another face came on the screen. He quickly stopped the video and sat back. He was not expecting to see that face.

"Nemesis,' Bruce muttered. "What the hell are you doing at Clark's hotel?"


	20. Chapter 20

The Tyranny of Weakness

"Night into Day"

The Watchtower

The monthly meeting of the senior members was just about finished. Much like a board of directors at any corporation they were reviewing the previous month, looking at projections for the future, checking the status of long-term growth and stability of their organization. Potential liabilities were addressed. There were the usual reviews of shifts, assignments and personnel, talk of maintenance on the station and future growth and expansion just like every other business. At its core, the Justice League was a business, a unique one to be sure, but a business.

Dinah finally brought the meeting to an end and the heroes began to drift out. Bruce caught Diana's attention. They had been working together so long and knew each other so well; it only took a look for her to known he wanted to talk. They waited until the others had left and they were alone.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Diana asked.

"Yes, but first I noticed you seem in a better mood today.' Bruce began. "I take it he finally called?"

"Yes, but he wouldn't tell me where he is,' she replied. Diana crossed her arms in front of her. Some of her frustration at Kal slipped through. "He still has the stupid notion that he has to protect me."

"Some habits are hard to break, especially ones you've had all your life,' Bruce offered.

"I think he just likes being difficult if you want to know the truth." Diana stated.

"Well, he is rather good at it,' Bruce replied. "That wasn't why I wanted to talk to you, though."

"What then?'

Bruce pulled out a picture and set it down on the table. It was the still frame of Nemesis at Clark's hotel.

"I wanted to discuss your boyfriend."

"He's not..we're not together anymore,' Diana said. Bruce saw the sadness flash over her face. He knew about her relationship with Tom, but had never pried into the details. He found he wasn't surprised it hadn't worked out, but his expression gave none of this away.

"When was the last time you saw him?'

'It has been awhile,' Diana replied. She was looking at the photo. "Why are you asking about Tom, Bruce? And where is this photo from?"

"Phuket. That's Clark's hotel he's going into."

"Tom? Why would he be going into Clark's hotel?" Diana asked.

"I'd like to know that too,' Bruce replied. "This is only a day before the murders, Diana. Why would Nemesis be there?"

Diana sat down, looking at the photo. She was shocked by what Bruce was saying and didn't have an answer.

"I don't know,' she admitted. "Tom didn't even like Kal, in fact, I thought he hated him."

"Why?"

"He was jealous." The response had been automatic, but she regretted giving so much information about her private life away. Diana didn't want to get into the details of their breakup, but the picture was stunning to her.

"Did he have a reason to be jealous?' Bruce asked.

Diana's expression changed at the question.

"My private life is none of your concern, Bruce. I would think you of all people would understand that." Her voice left no room for misinterpretation. "It didn't work out and hadn't been for some time. It's over."

"I don't want to delve into your personal life either, Diana, but your ex-boyfriend showed up a day before the murders,' Bruce countered. "That raises a lot of questions that need answers."

"Yes, it does."

"I don't know how much about Tom's work you know."

"He's an agent for the government, Bruce."

"He's a spy, Diana. Why would a spy be at Clark's hotel room the day before the murders? I think we need to find Tom and get some answers."

"Yes, we do."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

The beat of the music was incessant and had been for hours. She Wants Revenge's "Tear You Apart" was currently playing. How long they'd been there was anyone's guess. There were no windows or clocks in the club so it seemed almost outside of time. Drugs, sex, all sorts of illegal activities were happening in plain sight. Women in fetish outfits danced in cages above the crowd. Russian gangsters were everywhere. The vodka was flowing like water.

Clark had the buzz on, but had resisted indulging to his usual level. It was difficult, as these people did not like being refused by anyone. His current status though as a wanted, international fugitive was always at the front of his thinking. He was repeatedly told he was safe; these were powerful, important men with connections to the authorities and senior government officials. He didn't doubt that was all true, but it was still his life in jeopardy. Too many people seemed to think they knew best for him or that they could use him at this point. If he was going to get out of this, he was going to have to do it his way. Yes, a few good and trusted friends were helping, but his life and future were primarily his responsibility.

As he sat back away from the speakers taking it all in, Clark realized how normal this all had become. Normal wasn't the right word, he thought, more familiar, understandable. He intellectually realized these sorts of places and this world existed, but he had no experience or interaction with them. The first time Suzette had introduced him to this world he'd been frankly shocked and a little outraged by it all. The sheer decadence of it went against all the things he'd been brought up to believe. It had always been something of a joke back in the day, but the label Boy Scout suddenly seemed appropriate.

All night, as the drinks flowed, he'd let his eyes roam over the crowd taking it all in. He certainly had no illusions as to what sort of men these people were. They were criminals, gangsters and thugs, but the more he was around them he began to realize that wasn't all they were. They were also husbands, fathers and sons. They were more than just the two-dimensional caricatures that you usually think of them as. It wasn't that he was trying to excuse what they did, but more that he was seeing them clearly for the first time.

As the night went on, his eyes shifted from the obvious loud gangsters to the people in the background. The dancers, waitresses, bartenders, busboys and the rest of the people most never thought about. Given where they worked and with whom most would dismiss them as just more of the problem, more of the decadence and wickedness. Clark found himself interested in who they were and what their stories were. He knew enough Russian to get by so as the hours rolled on, he started talking to them. At first they were weary, but when they saw he was genuinely interested they opened up.

Some were familiar stories, drug habits, broken homes and abuse, but as he listened to each of them another picture began to emerge. It had been one of the dancers that first seemed to touch on it. This was a job to her. The skimpy outfit was just a uniform she had to wear. Things were hard and you had to make ends meet anyway you could.

The more workers he talked to the more he realized these were ordinary people just trying to survive. Many had families and were doing what they needed to provide for them. They could make in a month working here what usually took a year. Each seemed to understand without saying it this part of their life had a time limit on it. You rarely see an old dancer or bartender in a club. There is a small window where they would make their money and then moved on.

Of course there were the others, a minority that embraced this lifestyle completely. They reveled in the decadence and wickedness. Inhibitions had been thrown aside and each new level of debauchery was welcomed willingly. But were they evil, he wondered? Yes, the gangsters were more complex then he originally thought, but they were evil. The very nature of their business rested on doing evil things. Was someone that liked to get tied up and whipped evil as well? It was such a strange world he found himself in, where one question seemed to spawn twenty more.

Clark knew what he was thinking was dangerously close to Moral Relativism. Many would automatically say that once you start down this road you end up with the belief that there is no universal absolute right or wrong and that truth and reality are just perceived differently from diverse points of view. It was a slippery slope to thinking there was no right and wrong. If there was no right or wrong than anything could be justified.

That wasn't what was going through Clark's mind though. Most probably wouldn't see the nuance or slight difference, but what he was starting to think about and realize was closer to Descriptive Relativism. It was seeing things as they really are instead of seeing them, as they should be. It didn't mean you didn't think or know what was right and wrong, just that you saw the world for what it was.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana and Bruce stood in front of Tom's apartment door. Diana smiled and waved to one of his neighbors when she poked her head out to see who it was.

"Hello, Mrs. Taylor."

The older woman recognized Diana immediately. She waved but gave Bruce the once over before closing her door. The fake smile dropped immediately from his lips.

"Is this really necessary?" He complained. "I told you I could handle this on my own, you didn't have to come, Diana. I could have easily slipped in and out before anyone knew I was here."

"I want to know what's going on just as much as you do, Bruce,' Diana replied. "Besides, Tom has a security system that is quite complicated."

"I could bypass it, no matter what it is."

"Yes, I'm sure you could, but why when I have the key?"

"You could have just given it to me,' he offered.

"Would you have waited for me to come with you?' She asked. When he didn't immediately reply, Diana smiled. "That's what I thought."

Bruce took the key from her hand and opened the door.

"Let's just get this over with."

"I suddenly remember why we never worked out,' Diana said with a shake of her head.

"Besides the other issues, one of us was too stubborn,' Bruce replied as he walked inside.

"Yes, one of us was,' Diana muttered, as she rolled her eyes and then followed him. Bruce was already bypassing the security code. As he finished he looked at Diana.

"So you're blaming me?' He asked.

"That was a long time ago, Bruce, let's just forget it."

"Fine,' he replied. He began searching through the unopened mail in the entrance way. "You were just as much at fault as I was."

"You really want to rehash this now?" Diana asked, not believing him. As he finished checking the mail, he turned towards her.

"It sounded like you still had some issues with it? Am I wrong?"

"Yes," Diana replied. "You are wrong, Bruce. Just like you I came to the conclusion that while we are friends, more than that wouldn't work. I have no regrets about that time. In fact I tend to look back at them fondly now."

He seemed a little surprised by this.

"Well we did try, so it's not like we would always be wondering,' he admitted.

"True. It was a painful lesson to learn, but a valuable one,' she said.

"At least it wasn't as bad as Arthur and you,' Bruce offered with a smile. It was Diana's turn to be surprised.

"You knew?"

"Come on, Diana, remember who you're talking to,' Bruce said with a laugh. "Don't feel too bad; you were very good at hiding it. I doubt most of the others even know now."

They both moved into the living room, continuing their search.

"You never said anything,' Diana offered.

"Who you slept with before me wasn't any of my business,' Bruce replied. "You weren't my first either."

"I'm very well aware of that,' Diana countered. "I think everyone is aware of that."

"So have you slept with Clark yet?"

"Bruce, we're standing in my ex's apartment searching it, I'm not going to discuss my private life with you here,' Diana fired back. "Well, I'm not going to discuss it anywhere with you for that matter."

"I'll take that as a no."

Diana thought back to the night in the hotel room in Phuket. She had certainly been willing, but it had ended in disaster.

"Even if I wanted to, which I'm not saying I do, the same issues would be there as always,' she quietly said. The sadness and disappointment were plain in her voice. The fact that she distinctly heard Bruce chuckle didn't sit well with Diana.

"You find that amusing?" She demanded, her temper starting to rise.

"No, of course not, just ironic."

She reached out and grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her. She was clearly not happy.

"Would you care to explain that?"

He looked at her for a moment before replying. She didn't see it, he thought.

"Diana you've been grumbling about him trying to protect you this whole time, but you're doing the same thing to him,' Bruce informed her.

"That's different, Bruce and you know it,' Diana protested. "If I let go of my control for even a second I could badly hurt any man. I would think you'd remember that."

"Oh, I do,' Bruce replied. "I realize and understand you have a unique set of challenges. It was one of the problems back when we tried. I'm just saying Clark's not human, Diana, he's Kryptonian. I believe you've already found out they are harder to break then humans are."

"That's an interesting theory, Bruce, but it could be rather dangerous to prove it."

It was just a theory, Diana told herself, but it was an interesting theory. A very interesting theory she had to admit. Bruce shook his head and sighed. He hadn't meant to get in this part of her life when he started.

"I'm not trying to play matchmaker here, Diana,' he said. "In fact I'd really rather not know anymore about it. I was just trying to point out that just like you have learned you have to maintain control, Clark learned something similar. He grew up surrounded by ordinary humans. When his powers were developing, imagine how fragile all of us must have seemed to him. His first instinct would be to protect them. As he got older, that would become a part of him, to protect everyone. Even without his powers now, that lesson learned, as a child would be so ingrained in him it would be second nature. Just like you maintaining control has become the norm."

"But he's lost his powers, Bruce, he must know things are different now,' Diana countered.

"Some lesson you learn as a child never leave you, Diana."

For a moment she wasn't sure if Bruce was still talking about Kal or himself. She knew it could apply to both of them. Growing up on Themyscira she had been surrounded by Amazons. While they didn't share all of her gifts, they were stronger than most. It had never been an issue of protecting them against her powers. As she stood there considering this, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Tom was very meticulous about his things and very orderly. It was one of the things she first liked about him, as it was something they had in common. On his desk was small binder, like a date book. If he was anything like Diana, he would have a copy in his phone, but would want a backup just in case.

She walked over to the desk and picked it up.

"I think I found something."

Bruce came over and stood next to her.

"A date book?"

"Yes, but it all seems to be in some code,' Diana replied. "It could take forever to decipher it."

"Maybe, but maybe we don't need to know the actual words,' Bruce said. "Let's look at the dates. Start with the time we know he was there, the day before the murders."

Diana flipped through it and found the day. The page was filled, but it was all initials and nonsense unless you knew the code.

"Okay, I found it, but it doesn't give us any more explanation for why he was there."

"Check back through the days before it, look for any symbols or initials that are the same."

"You think it wasn't a one time trip, that he'd been there before?"

"Yes, but unfortunately the bank camera only records one week at a time,' Bruce explained. "It is reused so it's wiped away by the new week."

Diana set the date book down and reached for a piece of paper and pencil. She copied the notations from the day before the murders and then they began to leaf through the previous pages. It took a few minutes, but they both had keen eyes and inquisitive minds. Soon a pattern began to develop. They saw that Tom had been in Phuket several times in recent weeks.

Something suddenly occurred to Diana. During their break up, Tom had accused her of flying half way around the world to be with Kal. He also said he wasn't a hero anymore he was a drunk. More of his words suddenly had a deeper meaning as she realized. Tom had known all about her trips to Phuket. He accused Clark of treating Diana like the whores he usually went with. How would he know that if he hadn't been watching Clark? He was genuinely outraged when she told him about going to see Clark, yet was that the truth? Did he already know about it? What was the connection between that and Tom going to Kal's hotel room?

"Bruce, I think this might be more complicated then we first thought."

"How so?"

"Look at the dates,' Diana explained. "Many of them are days that I was in Phuket. The fight when you were with me. I told you about going back to try and teach Kal how to fight, that day is in here. There is another occasion I went to Phuket. That's in here too."

"Are you saying this is personal?"

"Tom was jealous, Bruce,' Diana replied. "He blamed Kal for our break up. Now we find out it looks like he wasn't just watching Kal but me, as well."

"All that may be true, but I know Tom Tresser too, Diana,' Bruce countered. "I don't want to believe he would kill just to get revenge for a failed love affair."

"I don't want to believe that either, Bruce, but do you have another explanation?"

"No, but I think I know someone who does."

Bruce was already starting for the door and Diana was right behind him.

"Who?"

"Clark."

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark was sitting with Julian. The vodka was still flowing. His thoughts had turned to the older man. He had to wonder why he was doing everything he was.

"Why are you helping me, Julian?"

It was a straightforward question. Julian smiled.

"Would you believe because you interest me?"

"That seems a little bit of a stretch. You gave up everything you had in Phuket at the drop of a hat to help me. You're still helping me, even though you don't have to. Why?"

Julian sat back as if he were contemplating his answer.

"Circles and squares, Horse, circles and squares."

"Excuse me?"

"Life for all of us seeks normalcy, patterns of familiarity,' Julian began. "It is the way of things. It makes no difference man or woman; it is the same for everyone. You get up in the morning, take the same way to work and then return the same way at night. A circle. It's safe, it's comfortable, but as this pattern gets more ingrained, you stop noticing the world around you on that trip into work. You've read every sign, looked at every house and business along your route and now they are just background noise you hardly even notice anymore. You think you are breaking this pattern on the weekends, but again another pattern emerges. You go golfing, then out to dinner and finally to a nightclub adn then return home. Each week you repeat this. A square forms, just another pattern. Circles and Squares."

"You were in a rut, is that what you're telling me,' Clark asked.

"Less poetic than Circles and Squares, but appropriate,' Julian replied with a smile. "It is more than that really. Your day-to-day life becomes rather predictable. Most don't even realize it until they are jolted out of it. An adventure is what jolts you out of those Circles and Squares, Horse. When Suzette told me of your situation I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to go on an adventure. She did too."

"But you gave up everything you had." Clark protested.

"Things,' Julian said dismissively. "What are things compared to an adventure? If it eases your mind, I have partners who will take over the business. I will be handsomely rewarded for my share."

"Why this adventure, Julian? Why me?"

"From the moment you walked into my establishment you have fascinated me, Horse,' Julian admitted. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or the amount of vodka they had consumed, but he felt like talking. Clark felt like listening.

"Why?"

Julian turned and looked Clark directly in the eye.

"I believe you are a weak man."

Clark bristled at this, but didn't react.

"Is that so?"

Julian beamed.

"Yes, but a fascinating man too. If I had said that to anyone else in this club, they would have struck me. You didn't."

Clark sat there not saying a word. Julian poured them both another drink.

"I will let you in on a secret, Horse,' he whispered. "I am a weak man too."

"Is that so?"

"Yes,' Julian said with a nod. "I had an epiphany as a young man. I was a soldier once. Oh, I know that seems hard to believe, but I was a very young man back then.'

"You don't strike me as the soldier type,' Clark commented.

"We are many things in our life, Horse,' Julian replied. "Have you ever heard of The Battle of Dien Bien Phu?"

This caught Clark be surprise and the turned to look at Julian.

"Yes, I've heard of it. Are you saying you were there?"

"I was not only there, I was a Legionnaire, Horse,' Julian proudly stated.

"You were in the French Foreign Legion?"

"Yes, a colossal mistake I realized later, but as I said, I was young. When you are young the Legion seems impossibly romantic and full of daring-do and adventure."

"So even back then you were seeking adventure, huh?" Clark said with a smile.

"I didn't even know the real meaning of it back then,' Julian admitted. "But I was telling you of my epiphany. In the Legion's legend, the battle of Dien Bien Phu is considered a glorious, gallant defeat against impossible odds. If you were there you have a slightly different view."

"How so?"

Julian poured them both another drink.

"We were surrounded, hopelessly out-manned, cut off. The enemy had the high ground and artillery. A complete disaster from a tactical standpoint,' Julian explained. "Our supplies were dropped in by airplane, but the other side had anti-aircraft weapons. The fighting was brutal, much like you read about in First World War, trench warfare. I remember it as if it were yesterday, our commander moving down the line shouting at us to show no weakness, too fight on. This became a running theme day after day. Surrender wasn't an option for the Legion that would be considered weakness. You fought to the last man."

Julian drank his drink and poured another.

"Day after day I watched men die all around me. Our commander praised them as the honored dead. One night it suddenly hit me, my epiphany, I was weak. I wanted to live. I cared nothing for honor or heroism I just wanted to live. I slipped out that night through the lines and never looked back. I was in Laos by the time the end came. The Legionnaires were slaughtered, fighting to the last man. The end of another glorious chapter in their long history."

"It must have been difficult to abandon you comrades though,' Clark asked.

"Not at all,' Julian replied. 'I knew they saw the same thing in me that I finally realized. I was weak. People, men and women alike hate weakness. They were probably damn glad to be rid of me. Is there a more damning statement than to say someone is weak? I don't think so. I will let you in on another secret, Horse, we are all weak, everyone one of us."

Clark drank his drink but didn't reply.

"All cruelty springs from weakness."

"Do you really believe that?" Clark asked.

"Yes, because we are all weak. That's the way it is supposed to be. Isn't that what we are taught? We are helpless children of an angry God. He is the shepherd and that makes us the sheep, doesn't it? I still remember the prayer from my childhood. The lord is my shepherd it started. What are sheep if not weak and helpless?"

"That's kind of a grim interpretation, Julian."

"Look at everyone around us, Horse,' Julian said, gesturing at towards the others in the club. "If I said to anyone they were weak, I would have a fight on my hands. You have met Boris. He is a very powerful man, deadly in fact. If I said to him he was a ruthless killer, he would probably take it as a compliment. If I said he was weak, he would kill me just to prove he wasn't."

"That's fear, Julian, not weakness,' Clark countered.

"Oh, yes, fear, everyone is afraid of something, true,' Julian replied. "Most think it is a fear of death, but I think it is a fear of being seen as weak. It isn't just men and women, Horse, but governments have the same fear. Your own government sent 500,000 troops half way around the world so their response wouldn't be seen as weak."

"That's a little simplistic, isn't it?"

"Is it? It's in the language used, a show of force, a strong response and making a statement. This is not a new thing by any means, it has been around for as long as men have lived."

Clark sat back finishing a drink and pouring another. Julian usually wasn't this talkative, so he was intrigued.

"Saying for a moment I go along with your theory, how does that apply to me?"

"You wear you weakness for all to see, Horse,' Julian flatly said. "You have had a great tragedy in your life. You don't need to tell me what it is and I won't pry, but it is there for all to see. You couldn't hide it if you wanted to. It is like a red badge on your chest. I think now you are starting to come out of this, but that weakness is still there. You recognize it and are trying to deal with it. That alone makes you an interesting man, Horse."

"I disagree."

"No trust me on this," Julian countered again. "A man who has made his peace with weakness becomes something else. By accepting that it is a part of you, this makes you different. You don't feel the need to worry whether someone is disrespecting you, or questioning your honor."

"I think your friends would disagree,' Clark replied, gesturing to the mobsters all around them.

"I'm certain of it." Julian said in agreement. "In their line of work, the slightest hint of weakness means disaster. It extends beyond them to everyone. I imagine women have it even worse."

"How so?'

"Every year more women move into the workplace, Horse,' Julian said. "There will always be resistance to this, but it's like trying to hold back the tide, pointless. Traditional roles have women as weak. The weaker sex is how many still refer to women. When I was a child, if you were on a bad team in sports, you were referred to as 'the weak sisters of the poor.; Think about that phrase, Horse, notice the key words: weak – sisters - poor. It wasn't bad enough you were a bad team, you were thought of as less than the others."

"Times have changed, as you pointed out."

"Have they? Imagine being a young woman in the workplace today. She has a delicate balance she has to perform compared to the men around her. If she pushes too hard like the men, she is a bitch and a ball buster. Not hard enough, she's just not cut out for upper management, she's weak. All of this and she still has to deal with being feminine and attractive, because those are almost just as important. No, my friend, women had it infinitely harder than men do."

"I can't disagree with that,' Clark admitted. He thought back on many of the women he'd known. He'd certainly heard the words brash, arrogant, ball buster, even lesbian thrown around towards them. A man in the same situation would never be thought of that way. He'd be a go-getter, out spoken, no nonsense leader.

"All cruelty springs from weakness." Julian repeated. "People hate weakness because it reminds them off their own weakness. I will tell you another story. I was in Saigon before the fall. I knew many troops back in the day. There was a group of young Americans that had been together since basic training. They fought side-by-side everyday and were as close as brothers. One day they were out in the jungle on a mission. They came upon a village. It had been recently attack, no one ever knew by which side. All over the village the dead were still in the street. One of the soldiers happened to enter a building and found it was a school. Every child in the building was dead. It was too much for him and he started to weep. He was still weeping when the others found him. They were just as horrified as he was, but something about his tears disturbed all of them."

"What happened?' Clark asked.

"Nothing at first, but as time went on a distance began to manifest itself between the weeping soldier and the others. They had seen him at his weakest moment and they couldn't get that image out of their minds. Eventually he had to transfer to another unit. This was a young man they had known since basic training yet suddenly they were relieved to see him go. They hated him for showing them his weakness, Horse."

"They were just young kids, Julian, we all make mistakes when we're young,' Clark offered.

"Yes we do, but his was unforgivable to his comrades."

The two men had another drink in silence. The rest of the club suddenly felt far away.

"Weakness is behind so much of life, Horse, or the fear of weakness.' Julian finally continued. Despite the carefully controlled air conditioning temperature of the club, Clark noticed Julian was sweating. There was a raw intensity in his eyes that he'd never seen before. "Laws are made because of the weak, Horse. We are told they are to protect us, but the implicit message is that we are all weak. Someone in this club will leave and get in their car and crash it. They will be drunk, but this will be used as a justification for laws against drinking. The vast majority will take a taxi or find a way home that doesn't involved drinking and driving, but that won't matter. We must all be protected against weakness.'

Julian suddenly stood up and gestured wildly around them.

"This club Horse and everything in it,' he shouted. "To be here is to be weak, lacking in moral character. People who have never been inside these walls will protest against this and demand it be shut down. They hate and fear weakness and see this as a temptation that can't be allowed to continue. Why fight it? Why not embrace it all? Accept that you are weak and suddenly you are free! Accept it and suddenly nothing is off limits any more, Horse. You escape the tyranny of the weak only by embracing it!"

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

Diana had joined Bruce in the Batcave. She insisted against his wishes. He was working over the controls seeing if he could locate Nemesis. He was having no luck. In frustration he finally pulled out the phone to call Clark.

"So am I correct in assuming all this time you knew where Kal was, Bruce?"

"No, I don't know exactly where he is," Bruce replied.

"But you have an idea?"

"Yes."

"Where is he, Bruce?"

Bruce turned to look at her.

"So because he wouldn't tell you, now you're going to pump me for information? Really?"

"It was a thought,' Diana admitted.

"And I'm the stubborn one,' Bruce grumbled under his breath.

"We've been teammates, Bruce, you should trust me,' Diana countered. "We've known each other for years."

"Yes, we have," Bruce replied. "That's how I know the moment I tell you where I think he is, you'll go there even though you know he doesn't want you to.'

"I don't need protecting, Bruce, not from him or you."

"I'm well aware of that, Diana."

"I know I'm putting you in a difficult position, Bruce,' Diana offered, changing her tactics. "I would never ask you to compromise a trust, but I was just thinking if something were to happen? If it was an emergency, I would be able to respond much faster than you would. I could be anywhere in the world in a matter of minutes. I know how you like to plan ahead. I was just thinking that if you told me where he was, I could be your backup plan just in case."

Bruce sat listening too all of this. When Diana finished he broke out in the smile.

"Oh, you're good, Diana, very good,' he said. "I see all those years as a diplomat has paid off. You want to be my backup plan? Please!"

"It was worth a try."

Bruce shook his head and turned back to the monitors. He dialed Clark's number.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Nemesis watched through binoculars the entrance to the club from his hotel room. He didn't know what was going on inside. Kent hadn't checked in like he was supposed to and this irritated Nemesis. As the hours slipped by he was getting more and more irritated. It was time to give Mr. Kent a lesson in what happens if he doesn't do what he's told. Tom punched a series of numbers into the phone and waited. In passable Russian he informed the agent that picked up that the wanted fugitive, Kalvin Kent was currently in their city. He related the address and then hung up. He was just about to send a text when he saw the doors open and Kent step outside.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Clark felt he needed some fresh air. As he opened the doors he was hit by the midday sunlight. It was like walking out of a movie theater after a matinee. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He suddenly felt the full effect of the alcohol. It shortened his field of vision considerable, but it also enhanced things within that small field. Sound, light, texture, everything seemed much more vivid. There was a chill in the air and he absently blew on his hands. His mind was still trying to process everything Julian had said.

Clark noticed two other men he had met in the club earlier were outside. They looked at him wearily, but he just smiled at them. They seemed nervous, but after a moment they went back to their discussion. He couldn't help hearing their conversation. Clark realized they didn't know he understood Russian. With each word he grew more alarmed by what the men were talking about. An assassination of a foreign dignitary in Sarajevo

Clark tried to be nonchalant about it, while hanging on every word. Apparently it was a contract from group inside the former Yugoslavia that called themselves the Black Hand. Clark didn't hear when or who was the target, but he got the impression it would be soon. He felt a rising sense of unease about the whole thing, but in the next moment, his phone went off. The two men shut up immediately and turned to stare at him. It was a text message. As he read it, Clark suddenly had a whole new set of more pressing issues. The message said:

"The Russian secret police have been tipped off as to where you are.

They are on the way there right now. A deal is a deal, you don't walk away from this."

Clark looked around wildly, expecting police cars to come rushing towards him. Backpedaling he managed to get the doors to the club open and ran inside. His first thought was escape, but he wanted to warn Julian and Suzette. They had helped him all this time, so he owed them that. He found Julian in the same spot he'd left him.

"Julian, the Russian secret police are on their way! They know I'm here! We have to get moving, now!"

"Get Suzette, I will meet you by those doors over there,' Julian replied. Clark headed off towards the dance floor, muscling his way through the crowd. He found Suzette at the center of a cluster of men. He reached for her and gently pulled her to him. The men protested, but he had no time for them.

"The police are on their way, we have to leave.' He said to her. She just nodded and followed him towards where Julian was standing. Sirens could be heard now and everyone in the club was scrambling. Clark's phone went off. He looked at it and knew the number immediately. He answered it as he bulled his way through the panicked crowd, keeping Suzette with him the whole way.

"Clark?"

"Not a good time, Bruce! I have a situation, I'll call you back once I get out of it!"

Clark hung up just at the sound of pounding started against the front doors. The police were going to break it down. Suzette and Clark reached Julian.

"This way, but stay calm,' he said. He opened the door and the three slipped quickly through, slamming it behind them. They moved quickly but quietly down a series of tunnels. They reached the fourth overhead door and Julian suddenly stopped. He seemed to be listening for something. After a moment, he turned to Clark.

"Open this door, Horse, if you please, but do it quietly."

Clark stepped up and lifted the steel door. He glanced around and saw it was an entrance to the street. Opening it all the way, he helped Julian and Suzette up. The air was filled with sirens and gunfire. Julian silently held his finger up to his lips and then gestured for them to follow. They casually started to stroll away from the club as chaos swirled all around them.

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

Bruce set the phone down with a worried look on his face.

"What? What did he say,' Diana asked.

"He couldn't talk, something is happening,' Bruce replied. "He'll call later."

"So where is he?"

Bruce turned and looked at her. She never gave up, he thought. It would be all over the news in a matter of minutes anyway, so he might as well tell her.

"Moscow."

She started to turn, but Bruce stopped her.

"He won't be there by the time you arrive."


	21. Chapter 21

Conversations

Berlin

They had made it out of Russia, not knowing how close the secret police were behind them. Berlin seemed the natural next stop. The strain of all the travel, plus everything else seemed to have finally caught up with Julian. Since his rant at the club, he'd fallen silent and listless. Clark could see the concern in Suzette's eyes.

They managed to check in at the H10 Berlin Ku'damm on Joachimstaler Strasse. Clark helped Julian into one of the bedrooms and laid him down on the bed. As he placed the comforter over him, Julian opened his eyes and smiled a weak smile.

"Just a little rest, that's all I need, Horse,' Julian whispered. "Just a little rest."

"Okay, good, if you need anything just let me know,' Clark replied. He pulled the comforter up and then turned off the light before slipping back into the main living area. Suzette had one hand on her hip and one to her chin as she paced back and forth deep in thought.

"He's resting,' Clark offered. She turned towards him and nodded.

"This is not good for us,' she said.

"For us?"

"For all of us, Kal. We can't stay in this hotel for too long, it adds to the risk."

"I'll leave before you two are in danger.' He offered. "You've already done more than enough for me."

Suzette smiled, then walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You don't get it, do you?" She said. "The authorities have figured out by now you had help. We are known associates of yours and if anyone in Moscow talked, they know we are with you. We're your accomplices now and that puts us all in the same predicament."

"I didn't even think of that,' Clark replied. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you two to get caught up in this."

"It's an adventure, Kal, adventures come with risks. We weren't worried about it, so don't you be,' she said, giving him a little kiss. "What we need to worry about is right now. The hotel is probably safe for tonight, but we need to move."

"Where?"

"Julian has many friends,' she informed him. "They are also my friends. I will contact them and arrange for a safe house. The trouble is moving Julian."

"I think the travel, along with the changes in climate and time zones have just caught up with him. He just needs some rest and he should be okay."

"Let's hope so,' Suzette replied. "If not, we will have to leave him."

"Leave him?"

"Yes, if he can't travel he becomes a liability, a weakness,' she explained.

"I'm not just going to leave him, Suzette and I'm surprised you would."

"Julian would understand and do the same if the roles were reversed." Suzette held Clark's gaze unblinkingly. He had never seen her so focused or coldly logical. He suddenly realized there was much more about her he didn't know then he first suspected. She kissed him again and flashed a teasing smile. Somehow it never quite made it to her eyes.

"You are right, of course he will be fine. He's just tired,' she said. "I know it sounds hard, but it is better to speak of these things before they become necessary."

She kissed him again and then moved away. She picked up her phone and began dialing a number.

"This will take a while, Kal, you should go out and check to see if there is anything in the papers about Moscow,' she suggested. "I'll keep an eye on Julian."

"Yeah, okay, I'll do that,' he replied. "I'll be back in a little while."

He moved towards the door and could already hear her talking in French to someone. He glanced and watched her for a moment, marveling at how smooth she was. He didn't make a sound as he opened the door and exited. On the way down in the elevator, he suddenly felt incredibly naïve. He'd not only had sex, but also thought he'd made love to Suzette and so he believed he knew her just a little bit. He'd always assumed when two people share something that intimate they formed something of an understand about each other. As the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, he sadly realized sometimes sex is just sex.

His phone began to vibrate and he suddenly remembered he'd promised to call Bruce back. In all the chaos of their escape it had slipped his mind. He pulled out the phone and immediately his jaw clenched. It wasn't Bruce, but a text message.

"The Tiergarten, by the Bismarck Memorial in 30 minutes. Be there or else. N."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana shifted through the papers on her desk looking for anything, even the smallest clue. She had made Bruce give her copies of everything he had. She knew he liked to work alone and while she always preferred the collaborative approach to problems she was certainly capable of doing a little detective work on her own. While most immediately thought of Bruce when they pictured a detective, he was by no means the only one with those abilities. In Diana's case, it was simply that her other amazing abilities tended to overshadow those quieter skills.

She came at the problem completely different than Bruce would. While his method was almost exclusively logical, deductive reasoning, Diana tended to try and personalize it in addition to the cold hard facts. Instead of just looking at the dry words on the paper, she tried to shift her perspective and see things from each of the involved persons' view. It was hit or miss, she understood, but this seemed like something that required a more out of the box solution. She also felt she had an advantage of knowing at least two of the participants better than most.

That was the point from which she started, but as she got into the puzzle of this case, she began to realize some things. She didn't know Tom as well as she thought she did. Diana didn't believe he was the killer by any stretch of the imagination, but why he was there was troubling. They had never spoken about his work in detail. She understood that much of it was classified and he couldn't discuss it even with her. Could he kill? Yes, she didn't doubt this, but he would only do it if he had a reason. Was her going to Kal enough of a reason for Tom to kill? If it had been, wouldn't he have gone to kill Kal, not two innocent civilians?

Then there was Julian Grinka and Suzette. Diana gave a little scowl as she looked at their pictures. She didn't like either one of them. They were both certainly capable of murder, but the question again was why? It wasn't as if Kal were going anywhere. He seemed content to wallow in Phuket for the foreseeable future, Diana thought. There was also the fact that they most likely helped Kal escape from the murder charge. Why? From the latest reports, they were apparently still with him. Why set him up for murder and then run away with him? It had a romantic quality to it, but as Diana looked at their photos, she highly doubted that explanation. They were manipulators, tempters she believed. Direct action such as murder wasn't their usual method of operation. They were more likely to hand you the gun and point you in the proper direction than to pull the trigger.

Then there was the method of the killing. Beating someone to death was harder than most would believe. Unless you were extremely lucky or extremely powerful, it didn't happen in one or two blows. It's messy and brutal, even if the victims were drugged. That eliminated Suzette as the primary killer, but didn't excuse her from being the motivator. A seductive word whispered in the right ear could be more damaging then a fist at times.

Diana scanned over the notes she'd taken. She had pieces of the picture but knew there were some still missing. How all the pieces fit together was still just beyond her grasp. She picked up the picture of Kal. It was the one the police were circulating. He looked so wild, so lost in the picture, it was hard to reconcile this was the same man she knew. He was still spiraling down then, she thought; yet even then he hadn't killed the liaison for what he'd tried to do. That would have almost been justified, but he didn't. If he didn't then, she knew he hadn't this time. Now she just needed to figure out how the pieces fit together and find who did.

* * *

><p>Berlin<p>

Clark pulled the collar up higher on his jacket as he made his way towards the Bismarck Memorial. He was in the papers and on the news, but they still only had the one picture from Afghanistan. They also only had the name Kalvin Kent, while he was traveling under the legal name of Jordan Elliot.

The troubling part was they now had descriptions of Julian and Suzette. Julian might be able to blend in, but Suzette tended to attract every eye within range of her. Her exotic looks also stood out especially here in Berlin. He knew either one of them in the same situation would probably just keep walking. Clark couldn't do that. He owed them a debt. Whatever they might be involved in or what others might think of them, they helped him when he needed it most. He would be in a Thai jail now if it weren't for them. Many things had changed in Clark's life, but some things define who you are. He hadn't changed so much; he forgot to repay his debts.

His feelings towards Nemesis weren't so charitable. The man had barged into Clark's life and tried to take it over. From the moment he'd met him, Nemesis had blackmailed, bullied and threatened to get his way. Clark didn't like being used, especially when the man told him to his face that was what he was doing. Nemesis would probably want Clark to thank him for letting him know the secret police were on their way in Moscow. He would be disappointed, as Clark fully suspected it was Nemesis that tipped them off in the first place. It was part of the game to Nemesis, Clark realized. Tip the police off and then warn Clark that they were on their way. It showed how tenuous Clark's situation was and reinforced just how much he needed Nemesis if he were going to stay clear of the law. It was a good plan, Clark had to admit, but he just wasn't going to go along with it.

Clark had a good look now at the sort of men Nemesis wanted information on. Being an informant with them seemed like a job with a short life span to Clark. Even the hint that something wasn't quite right with you and they didn't wait to make sure. They eliminated you. It was a game to Nemesis, but Clark's life was at stake. It wasn't a game to him. He saw Nemesis standing by the Memorial smiling as he watched Clark walk towards him. Neither spoke until they were about three feet apart.

"Wise move showing up, Mr. Kent. The German police are much more efficient than the Russians."

"Especially when someone tips them off,' Clark replied.

"Figured that out, did you? Well, give yourself a gold star. I had to get your attention and that seemed the best way."

"What do you want Nemesis?"

"What I've always wanted, names to go with the faces,' Nemesis replied. "You just spent considerable time with a large segment of the Russian mafia, Kent. I want to know everyone you met and everything you heard."

Clark suddenly remembered one piece of information he did want Nemesis to know.

"I overheard two men talking about a hit in Sarajevo of some dignitary. I didn't get their names or the exact time, but it has to be pretty soon. A group inside the country is behind it. They are called the Black Hand."

Nemesis just stared at Clark for a moment.

"The Black Hand?"

"Yeah, that's what they said."

"In Sarajevo?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, maybe the target is the Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Good work, Kent, now all I need is a time machine to go back to 1914! Are you really that stupid you thought that would work?"

"Look, I know how it sounds,' Clark replied. "But this sounded like something that was going to happen soon. Is there any international events happening in Sarajevo in the next month?'

"I would imagine there are,' Nemesis admitted.

"Look don't believe me, but you must have been watching me in Moscow,' Clark continued. "If you were think about when you sent your text. The two men standing outside at same time were the ones discussing it."

Nemesis considered this for a moment. He did remember the two and they were well known within the industry as high-level assassins. They were professionals, so he highly doubted they would talk so openly in front of Kent. Still it might turn out to be something.

"All right, I'll pass it along,' Nemesis finally said. "That's not what I'm primarily interested in Kent and you know it. The Council, I want names!"

"They don't exactly wear name tags Nemesis."

"Smart ass,' Nemesis growled and then took a swing at Clark. His punch didn't reach its destination. Clark caught Nemesis' fist in midair and stopped it.

"You only get one free shot, Nemesis, and you already used yours."

Nemesis was surprised, he hadn't expected Kent to be that strong, but he could feel the powerful grip on his hand. He finally snatched it away. He took a step back and rubbed his wrist, while glaring at Clark.

"Let's be clear, Kent,' Nemesis whispered. "You don't like me and I most certainly don't like you. Those new pals you were hanging out with recently? They're criminals, the worst kind. You might want to turn a blind eye to that, but I don't. I'm not going to let you either. Get me those names or start running. I'll have ever cop from here to the English Channel on your tail unless you play ball. You have my number. Call within 48 hrs or else."

With that, Nemesis stalked off. Clark watched him go, knowing his life had just gotten harder.

The phone rang in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"I thought you were going to call me back, Clark?"

Bruce.

"I was, but things got a little crazy," Clark replied.

"Yes, I've seen the news. I take it your safe now?'

Clark turned and looked in the direction Nemesis had gone.

"Safe might not be the best way to put it."

"Can you talk?'

"Yes."

"Good, there's been some developments from Phuket," Bruce informed him.

"Good ones I hope?"

"I don't know yet. What can you tell me about Tom Tresser?"

Clark thought about it for a moment. The name didn't register.

"Nothing, I don't know the man,' he finally replied.

"He was at your hotel room in Phuket on several occasions, Clark. He also goes by the name Nemesis."

"Him I know."

"Why was he in your hotel room and what did he want?"

Clark related the first meeting with Nemesis and the subsequent meetings. He told him of the threats and what he wanted Clark to do. He finished by telling him of the meeting that ended right before Bruce's phone call.

"The Council, that makes sense,' Bruce said. "You know about his brother, right?"

"Yeah.'

"Did he mention Diana?"

"Why would he mention Diana?"

"Until recently they were going out." Bruce informed him. "She says he blamed you for her ending it."

"Oh wow,' Clark sighed. He sat down on the closest bench as this bit of news sunk in. "No, he never mentioned her. God, what a mess I'm in. No wonder the guy hates me. I'm surprised he didn't shoot me when I first walked in the door. If he wasn't such a prick, I would almost feel sorry for him. I didn't know anything about him and Diana, Bruce, I swear."

"If it helps, I don't think you were the reason she broke it off,' Bruce offered.

"Bruce she came to Phuket. She was there the same night I first met Nemesis. He must have known."

"She was in Phuket to teach you to fight, Clark, I doubt that would set him off."

"It wasn't that night, Bruce,' Clark reluctantly said. "That wasn't why she came."

"Oh, I see."

"No, we didn't,' Clark immediately replied. "I was a complete idiot to her and ruined it before anything really happened. Damn, I've been so busy screwing up my life I didn't even think about the other lives I've affected."

"Before you start wallowing in your misery again, Clark, can I mention one point you seemed to have missed?"

Clark gave a little chuckle at this.

"Always the sympathetic shoulder to cry on, huh, Bruce? Okay, what am I missing?"

"Someone killed two people in your room and pinned it on you,' Bruce replied. "That someone had to have a reason. Your friend Nemesis seems like he had a very good reason, don't you think?"

This caught Clark off guard.

"You think he did it? Because of Diana?"

"I don't want to believe it, but men have killed for less. I think you should start cooperating with him for the time being, Clark. Until we can sort this out, we don't know who is responsible or what they want. Friends close, enemies closer seems like a good motto to have right now if I were you."

"I'll think about."

Clark glanced around him and noticed there were police starting to patrol the area.

"Bruce, I should probably get back, but I wanted to thank you again. I do appreciate the help."

"That's what friends do, Clark."

"I know, but it's still appreciated. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Stay safe, my friend."

Before Clark could reply, the line went dead. Just like always, he had to get the last word in, Clark mused.

* * *

><p>Phuket – Thailand<p>

While Batman couldn't just fly over to investigate, Diana could. It only took a matter of minutes, so she decided to see what she could find out on her own. Wanting to keep as low a profile as she could, Diana dressed in business casual, black suit, white blouse, sunglasses and her hair in a ponytail. While this diminished some of the attention and looks she received, it by no means made her anonymous. She had learned a long time ago, that while she could change her appearance enough so they didn't connect her with Wonder Woman immediately, she would always get more than her share of looks. Just the fact of how tall she was seemed to guarantee this.

There were upsides too. People were always much more likely to help a beautiful woman than just about anyone. Doors opened and meetings were easier to get when they were accompanied by a lovely smile. Things like permission to look through the hotel room or talk to the investigators gave her an advantage that even Bruce didn't have. A few well-placed phone calls to government officials and other diplomats she had relationships with opened other doors.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Diana found herself enjoying it. It was a chance to use skills she didn't normally get to use. Yes, in her career as Ambassador she used observation, deductive reasoning, working out time frames and possible scenarios, but used them in a different capacity. This was a real world puzzle in 3 dimensions. There was something fascinating about rolling up her sleeves and digging into the physical evidence of the case.

One of the things that surprised her once she was on the scene was the realization that she saw the world differently then the investigators did. It had nothing to do with being Wonder Woman, but her actual physical height. Both investigators were five six or seven at best. She towered over them just like Kal would. When they examined the crime scene they saw it from their view, not his. It probably didn't seem like anything to them, but it was the difference between looking up and looking down at the world. Just a few inches changed your perspective. Any woman that wore a pair of high heels understood this. It was the difference between looking a date in the throat or the eye.

It was the vertical world versus the horizontal world.

As she moved through the hotel room, Diana could see it from Kal's point of view. Out of politeness she let the investigators walk her through how they saw the crimes happening. She watched and listened as one of them played the role of Kal and showed how he thought he'd killed the two. It all made perfect sense from their point of view, but she pointed out Kal's point of view wasn't the same as theirs. By shifting everything just a bit higher, angles, trajectories and blood splatters shifted ever so slightly.

There was also the matter of Kal's size she realized. Just the two investigators and herself standing in the bathroom were cramped. Kal was much broader in the shoulders and chest than any of the three, so with two other people the space would have almost been claustrophobic. A big man like Kal needed space to operate. In such a confined space the blood should have been everywhere, not just the one wall behind where victims were found. If he swung with the force necessary to kill, he would have eventually made contact with something else in the bathroom besides the two victims. There should be his blood somewhere, but there wasn't. All these things she pointed out to the investigators plus the drugs in each of their systems pointed to someone or others being the real culprits.

The investigators resisted this explanation, countering if he had nothing to hide why did he run. Diana smiled and then patience asked if they were in his place what would they do? He was in a foreign country and woke up to find two dead bodies in his room. The police were already on their way. Blind panic would take over. His fight or flight instincts would have kicked in and flight would of course win out. Once he ran he would have to keep running until the case was solved, wouldn't he she asked? Doesn't that make more sense then he would beat two people to death and then wait around for the police to arrive before escaping?

It took a few hours but by the time Diana left the investigators had promised to open up the investigation to include other suspects. As she was flying back, Diana called Bruce to fill him in on the details. She knew him so well; she could almost hear the surprise in his voice, almost. Now if that frustrating idiot Kal would just call her she could tell him too.

* * *

><p>Berlin<p>

Everything was arranged by the time Clark got back to the hotel. They wouldn't stay the night but leave as soon as the car arrived. Julian was sitting in the living area, but he looked worse than he had just a shot time ago. Clark could see by the way Suzette was looking at Julian she was already considering the possibility of leaving him here. He packed his bag as Suzette made a few last minute phone calls. When he finished he carried it out and saw her standing over Julian. She looked up at Clark.

"He can't walk from here to the car."

It was a statement of fact, but her expression gave it added meaning.

"We can get a wheelchair from the hotel."

"That invites more attention,' she replied. "Attention is something we don't need."

"Then I'll carry him," Clark flatly stated. "He's leaving with us."

They looked at each other from across the room. It would have been a test of wills except that two things happened. The first was Julian speaking.

"I can make it, I can,' he weakly said. "I'm just tired that's all, tired, so tired."

The second was the hotel doorbell ringing. They both looked at it.

"That will be the bellhops for the luggage,' Suzette said. "All right, if he's coming he can't go out the front lobby. Give me 15 minutes to get the luggage stored and I'll have the driver bring the car around the back. There will be less attention if you two come out that way."

"15 minutes, we'll be there,' Clark replied.

Suzette nodded and then walked over and kissed Clark. She glanced at Julian and then went to answer the door. She was in complete charge of the bellboys from the moment they saw her open the door. A few smiles and small flirtatious looks got them to do anything she wanted. The door closed behind them in less than 3 minutes. Clark turned his attention to Julian. He had lapsed back into silence. Clark moved over and knelt down next to him.

"Julian,' Clark softly said.

The older man's eyes opened and looked at him.

"We have to go now."

Julian just nodded, but didn't seem able to stand.

"I'm going to carrying you, Julian, just hold on."

Clark effortlessly picked him up in his arms and started for the door. They made it into the hallway and started for the back stairway.

"She wanted to leave me, didn't she?" Julian asked.

"No one is leaving anyone, Julian, just save your strength."

"She was right to want to leave me,' Julian replied. "Weakness, Horse, remember? She saw it right away. Like everyone she hates weakness."

"There's no weakness in needing help, Julian," Clark stated. "Everyone needs help some time."

"She was still right, Horse,' Julian whispered. "If roles were reversed, I would have left her without a second thought. Weakness."

"Well then it's probably a good thing I'm a weak man like you said, isn't it?' Clark replied. "I'm not leaving you behind."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen – Denmark<p>

The trip was a little over 200 miles between Berlin and Copenhagen. Suzette and Julian's friends had a safe house all ready for them when they arrived. It was in the Sluseholmen Canal District in the South Harbor area. The development was comprised of 1,350 apartments. The apartments were built on eight artificial islands, separated by dug out canals. On each island was a closed block of townhouses, 4-7 stories tall, built around a sheltered courtyard with public access. It was quiet and safe, for now. The three-bedroom townhouse sat on the end with a beautiful view of the water.

It was early evening and Suzette and Julian were already retired to their rooms to rest from the trip. The drive hadn't helped Julian's condition. Suzette hadn't said another word about leaving him, but Clark could tell it was on her mind. As had become the norm, they each had separate bedrooms. The door to Clark's room was closed and the only light came from the sliding glass doors that separated the room from a small balcony.

Clark had his phone in hand. He had promised Diana he would call and he wanted to call her. The information about Tom Tresser being Nemesis and his connection with Diana were the only thing making Clark hesitate. He wasn't quite sure how to broach that subject and whether he was partly responsible for their break up. He finally just decided to call and play it by ear, just say the first thing that came into his head as an ice breaker.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

It was late and Diana was already in bed. The sound of her phone ringing woke her. It wasn't an emergence or her League communicator would have went off. As she picked up her phone and sat back against the headboard of her bed, she wondered if it was finally Tom returning one of her calls. Since talking with Bruce she had phone him several times wanting to know what his role in all of this was. The number wasn't listed, so she knew it wasn't him. She had a very good idea who it was though.

"Hello?"

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

"So what are you wearing?"

Clark cringed as the words left his mouth. He'd wanted to say something light to open the conversation, but that just seemed to come out.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"A parka, Kal, I told you I'm not doing that with you and certainly not on the phone!"

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

"Okay, sorry, it was just an ice breaker."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Try again."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

He sat down on the bed and looked out at the moonlight reflected on the water. Okay, he thought, light didn't work, might as well just dive right in.

"Tom Tresser."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

She sat up a little straighter in bed at the mention of his name.

"You spoke to Bruce I take it?"

"Yeah."

"Why was Tom there, Kal?"

He told her the same things he told Bruce about Nemesis coercing him into spying on the Council for him. He didn't go into all the threats, but she understood there must have been some involved.

"So he was waiting for you in your hotel room that night after you left?"

She asked only because that part of the puzzle was still not set in her mind.

"Yeah, he had a gun pointed at me when I opened the door."

"I don't think he knew where you'd just come from,' Diana informed him. "He was genuinely surprised when I told him about that night."

"You told him?"

"Yes, Kal, I felt I had to be honest with him no matter what,' she replied. "I'm starting to realize I was the only one that felt that way."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

There was a question he felt he needed to ask, but was a little afraid what the answer was going to be.

"Diana, did you break up with him because of me?"

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana rolled her eyes at this.

"No, Kal, I hate to tell you this, but not everything revolves around you. It wasn't working and hadn't been for some time. I realize now going to you was just a symptom of something deeper that was wrong in our relationship."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

"I was a symptom?"

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Yes, Kal, like the flu."

"Gee, thanks."

Diana smiled and had to bite her lip not to laugh.

"The truth hurts some times, Kal."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

He could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

"That parka must bring out the mean side in you, Diana. Since when do you wear a parka to bed?"

He could hear her huff into the phone and smiled.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Since you keep asking me what I'm wearing! How would you like it? What are you wearing right now, Kal?"

"Well…"

He paused for a moment.

"Kal, so help me if you say you're naked I'm hanging up!"

She heard his laugh on the other end and had to smile. He had a nice laugh.

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

Clark leaned back on the bed against the pillows.

"Not naked, Diana, fully clothed, but I am bare foot, I hope that's not too much for you."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"I think I'll survive,' she replied.

She decided to slip in a quick question hoping to catch him with his guard down.

"So how's Berlin?"

"Lovely,' he replied, but then added. "I hear."

"So you're not in Berlin now?"

"No."

"But you were, weren't you?"

"Aren't you the detective all of a sudden."

"It doesn't take that much detecting to figure out once you left Moscow you'd stop in Berlin,' Diana replied. She felt the desire to needle him just a bit. "Now that you're a spy, Berlin just makes sense."

"Very cute, Diana, I'm not a spy by any of stretch of the imagination. And before you ask, I'm not telling you were I am, either."

Diana frowned at this. Why was he so stubborn?

"You know you should be nicer to me, Kal, I got the Thai police to reopen your case and start considering other suspects."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

Clark sat up at hearing this.

"Excuse me? How did you managed that?"

He listened as she explained her trip to the Phuket and her investigation. He was frankly a little dazzle by her detective work.

"I don't know what to say." He finally replied once she was finished. "Thank you, Diana, that's amazing. Thank you."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Your welcome, Kal. I am Wonder Woman too, you know, plus a diplomat among other things."

"Must have forgot about that,' he offered.

"Yes, you must have since you're still not telling me where you are and being stupid trying to protect me."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

He laid back down on the bed and smile.

"Guilty as charge,' he admitted. "I guess I always think of you as just Diana."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana smiled. She liked that. She knew it was just an offhand comment, but she liked it very much. She suddenly realized no one had said they thought of her as just Diana in a long time. Of course he ruined it with his next statement.

"So Wonder Woman, huh? Speaking of sexy outfits."

Diana kicked the covers away and was on her feet.

"Don't you dare even think about it, Kal! My armor was given to me by my Gods and not to be thought of like that!"

"Okay, I'll go back to picturing you in the parka,' he quickly replied. "Doesn't seem very fair though. Everyone else gets to picture you in that outfit."

"Well you don't! Especially not on the phone!"

"Yes ma'am."

Diana nodded to herself glad she'd straightened that out. She sat back down on the bed.

"So if you're not in Berlin now, where are you?"

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

Clark sighed and shook his head. He had to smile.

"Guess."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

His reply surprised her. She was expecting him to refuse to tell her like always.

"What do you mean, guess?"

"Well, since you don't seem to believe me when I say I'm not telling you, my only alternative is to let you guess."

"Kal, I don't need you to protect me!"

"And I don't need you to rescue me, Diana. Your help, yes, I'll take that. I know you're a hero and I'm not ... anymore, but I don't want you to swoop in and rescue me. Some times you just have to rescue yourself with a little help of course."

There was a pause and then he changed his tone again.

"Besides I'd feel silly with you carrying me like I see in all the photos."

Diana bit her bottom lip as not to laugh.

"You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"You laughed, you just don't want to admit it,' he replied.

This made her smile even more. She understood what he was saying, but she didn't want to let it go just yet.

"Paris?"

"Huh?"

"You said to guess,' she replied. "So Paris?"

She could hear him chuckle before he replied.

'No."

"North or south from there?"

"I left my compass back in Phuket."

"That means north,' she replied. "You know I'm going to be in Europe next week so if you change your mind about being rescued you could let me know. The finally stop is in Sarajevo, Kal."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

He sat up at the mention of Sarajevo.

"What's happening in Sarajevo next week?"

"Why? I was just joking, Kal, unless that's where you are."

"No, I'm not, Diana, but please, just tell me what's happening in Sarajevo next week."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Diana immediately noticed the change in his tone.

"There's an international conference taking place, Kal. Representatives from all over the world are going to be there. It culminates with a special show at the Sarajevo National Theatre. Why?"

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

Clark related the conversation he'd overheard in Moscow.

"I know its kind of thin, but your conference seems to fit."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"Yes it does. I'll let the organizers know about the threat, but without more specifics or the exact target it will be difficult. I should be able to get them to tighten security though."

"Plus you'll be there, so things will be in good hands."

"So will I see you when I'm in Europe, Kal?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I tell you what,' he replied. "Maybe when you're out touring around in that diplomatic limousine you might glance out the window and see me on a street corner. How's that?"

"In which city?"

This brought a laugh from his end. It was a warm, generous laugh, the kind that made others want to laugh too. It certainly did Diana. It also made her a little playful.

"You know if you tell me, I might tell you what I have on under the parka, Kal."

"I would have never imagined you as a tease, Diana. What would your mother say?"

"She'd say you should tell me where you are."

"Uh-huh, sure she would. Good night, Diana. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Kal. I'll be looking at those street corners so you better be on one of them."

"It's a promise. Good night."

"Night."

* * *

><p>Tokyo – A few days later<p>

Tom Tresser's supervisors, Frasier and Sloan stepped out of the non-descript building they used as the Agency's headquarters. To all appearances they were just two businessmen locking up their offices at R$G Global Imports. They said a few brief words to each other and then parted until the next morning. Sloan flagged down a cab and headed off towards his small apartment. Frasier watched him leave and then started walking. He had a newspaper under his arm and continually glanced in every direction. If anyone had been following him they would have had a hard time, as he made so many cut backs and detours it would have been impossible for him not to see a tail.

45 minutes later Frasier was inside a club heading towards the back. When he reached the door, a short stocky Japanese man stepped forward and frisked him. When he finished he opened the door and Frasier stepped inside. Another Japanese man sat behind the desk. There were bodyguards on either side of him.

"You shouldn't have contacted me at the office,' Frasier grumbled.

"It was necessary,' Max replied. "You haven't told us about Nemesis or the mole he was supposedly trying to get within our organization. That's unacceptable, Frasier, to the Council and to me."

"Look, I told you I would handle it, but your people screwed it up!"

"Explain,' Max said.

"Tresser's man," Frasier offered. "He should be out of the way. I went down and set him up myself. He should be rotting away in the Bangkok Hilton right about now, but your people rescued him!"

Frasier took the newspaper from under his arm and tossed it on Max's desk. It was the International Herald. There were three pictures on the front page, Clark, Julian and Suzette. Max seemed shocked by it and looked up at Frasier.

"Horse? Pale Horse was the informant?"

"That's what I thought, but once your two friends there rescued him I had to reconsider. I think all three of them are in on it!"

"Grinka would never do that,' Max dismissively said.

"How well do you really know your friend Julian Grinka, Max? It wouldn't be the first time he's worked both sides, would it?"

"This is not good, not good at all,' Max replied. "They will have to be dealt with immediately."

"Make sure it's permanent this time,' Frasier added. "I'll handle Tresser, you just take care of them! Those three are the weak links!"


	22. Chapter 22

Bound for Glory

Copenhagen

Clark ventured out for the first time into the city. He gave the local food, smørrebrød a try for lunch. He had the roast beef with "remoulade" and roasted onions + sour cucumber. He washed it down with a few Carlsbergs before finding an Internet café. He scanned the news and web sites for the latest information. It seemed the victim's father; the Senator was starting to put considerable pressure on for his son's murderer to be caught. This in turn got the cable news shows churning up the story to a fever pitch again.

Pictures of Julian and Suzette had begun to appear along with Clark's. Thankfully they were passport pictures and not the best likenesses. The added attention though just made everything harder.

Things in the safe house had calmed down considerably. A few nights rest seemed to help Julian. He was still rather drained and listless, but he managed to order a few things and when arrived they seemed to brighten his spirits. What they were, he was being secretive about.

Suzette had finally come to Clark's room. Perhaps it was that weakness that Julian spoke of, but Clark hadn't turn her away. He understood it was on her terms now, but that was okay too. They spoke little while they were together. The passion and heat were still there, but he felt the difference. He was 38 and had been married for 10 years so things had changed. Sex had become a regular part of his life.

Even with all the tragedy, he was beginning to understand that he'd been rather lucky as well. He'd only been with a few women in his life and until Suzette he had been in love with all of them. He was starting to realize how rare that was. It made for good romance novels and movies, but the reality was most people didn't always have sex with only their one true love. The other reality he was learning had to do with carrying torches and forsaking all others after a loved one is gone. Again the reality said otherwise, it wasn't something most people did. He knew Lois never expected that from him. He wasn't cut out for the Monk's life.

Clark understood in the real world people had sex for lots of reasons, not just love. To deny this was to deny reality. Even the most loving couples didn't always do it because of love. People had sex because they were lonely or bored or horny. They had sex sometimes just because there wasn't anything on TV or it just seemed like something to do. Sometimes it was the case that their partner wanted to and it was easier than having a fight. Sometimes it was as simply as just wanting a connection with another human being no matter how fleeting.

Suzette was a beautiful, passionate woman. It might not be love between them but it was still better than nothing. It was still better than being alone. They were both adults and willing participants. Now they both understood exactly what this was between them. That might make it wrong in many people's minds, but as Suzette said the first time they were together, it was what it was.

Clark ordered another beer as he checked out a few more sites. His own plight was foremost on his mind, but two other things kept catching his attention. One was Diana's arrival in Europe. Her first stop was in London and then on to Paris. He watched her press conferences in both locations. She was so smooth and polished. Her charisma came right through the screen. One moment she was serious, answering a political question and the next she was slightly playful with the reporters when they tried to get some gossip about her private life. She seemed in complete control at all times.

He had to smile to himself as he realized he was acting like a fan, checking out all the different coverage of her trip. He almost convinced himself he was looking at the different sites for the articles. Unfortunately this was undercut by the fact that he spent the majority of his time on the ones that had the most pictures of her. Well, he justified to himself, I'm still a guy.

The other news story that he kept going back to was the conference in Sarajevo. As he read the articles listing the names of the foreign dignitaries schedule to attend he grew more and more convinced it was the target for the assassins. Tensions in that region had cooled somewhat, but old wounds were just below the surface. Something like an assassination could reverse all the progress that had been made. That was probably the goal, he realized.

He told himself he'd done what he could. He'd passed the information on to Diana and Tresser. Security would be heightened so any attempt at an assassination was much more unlikely. The problem was the information was so little and not that specific. He was the only one that knew what the assassins actually looked like. He could describe them but that really wouldn't be much more help. Still it was in the hands of the experts now he told himself.

The problem was it continued to gnaw at him. He felt like he should do something more. He certainly wasn't a hero anymore, that part of his life was long over. Diana was a hero. She was more than capable of handling any situation. As she reminded him, Diana was Wonder Woman after all. The problem was she didn't know who she was looking. With the conference in Sarajevo there would be a swell in the population. People from all over would be in town. Lots of strangers meant lots of possible suspects. Clark had faith that Diana could deal with just about anything; she was the hero after all. He just wished there was some way he could help. Someway he could perhaps make it just a bit easier for her to do what she did best.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

The private jet eased to the ground and pulled to the special diplomatic terminal. The door opened and the Themysciran delegation began to disembark. Everything went like clockwork. The advance members had everything ready from the moment Diana stepped off the plane, through the press conference all the way to her waiting limo. As she said thank you to the reporters and flashed one last dazzling smile for the cameras, she was already moving towards the car. Her assistants were feeding her updates from back at the Embassy and any new information that had come in.

The driver was holding open the back right door for her. Diana thanked the young woman as she climbed into the car. Diana sat alone on the back seat while her two assistants sat opposite facing her. Each had tablets, but also hard copies of everything for her to review. Bottled mineral water was available along with a glass, not plastic, if Diana wanted it. Now in her 13th year as Ambassador, Diana's staff knew exactly what she expected. Attention to detail started at the top and filtered down through everyone that worked for her.

A kind way to put it would be that Diana was meticulous about how she liked things. A less kind way of putting it would be that she was just a bit anal about how she liked things. Diana would say she was a perfectionist. Like everyone she had a certain way she wanted things to be done. She liked getting in the limos from the right side, always the right side. It was just one of those little quirks that she had. When riding in a limo, she liked sitting alone so she was facing the person she was talking to. Diana liked mineral water to be available for the ride. She liked to drink it from a glass, not a plastic cup. They were all small details, but details that gave a hint to her personality.

As they rode towards the city of lights, Diana looked at her two young assistants. Both women were coordinating details and making last minute checks to ensure that it exactly as it was supposed to be for their arrival at the hotel. They had been with her two years now and were very efficient. Neither was an Amazon.

13 years had changed so many things, Diana thought. She had fond memories of when she'd first started all this. Setting up an Embassy, staffing it, all the while dealing with the crush of media and formal requests from other nations had been chaotic and overwhelming at first. She had been younger than the two women sitting across from her. Slowly she'd figured it out and with the help of those first staff members had made it work. She remembered so well each and every one that had started with her. Now there wasn't a single original staff member still with the main Embassy.

Themyscira now had diplomatic missions in thirty countries. Many of those original staff had gone on to head those along with more of her sisters from the island. With the 80 or so projects Themyscira sponsored around the world, there were now Amazons in over 100 countries. All of those missions and projects were coordinated through the main Embassy and Diana. It was strange, but now she was the only Amazon still working at the main Embassy.

Her staff had grown and changed several times over the years. At first it had been a bit disconcerting to lose those first members. They had all started together and were roughly the same age. They weren't just employees, they were friends to Diana. One by one though, they moved on to bigger and more important roles, advancing in their careers. Some started families and moved away from the high-pressure world of politics. They were all middle-aged women now. No one liked changed and Diana was certainly no exception, but change always came whether you like it or not. It was one of the hard lessons Diana had learned in 13 years.

She adjusted of course and found new people that were as capable if not more so. Working for her at the Embassy had become a rather prestigious position. Applications arrived all the time from some of the top schools around the world. Her two current assistants had gone to Vassar and Sarah Lawrence respectively. In many ways it was a tribute to her, that having experience at the Themysciran Embassy on your resume was highly prized. Former employees were legendary for their attention to detail, which was also a reflection on whom their boss had been.

Diana certainly heard the stories of her now legendary obsessive leanings. As she had gotten comfortable in her role as Ambassador, Diana found there was just certain way she liked things. Part of it she had inherited from her mother to be sure. As Queen, Hippolyta ran a strict and efficient palace and country. As Princess and heir, those lessons had been passed down to Diana. If you were sloppy in the small things, you most likely were sloppy in the big things too. Cleanliness of home and person, attention to detail and preparedness were necessary for anyone that wanted to work for her. With each new change in the staff this was passed on so that now it was the norm. Diana liked it that way.

When the limo pulled up in front of the hotel all of this was on display. Everything ran exactly as it was planned down to the second. Diana got out the right side and was through the paparazzi, lobby and in her private suite in exactly 5.2 minutes. There wasn't a plastic cup, dish or cutlery anywhere in sight. As she was finally able to relax, Diana took the time as always to thank each and every one of her staff for the jobs they had done. Her attention to detail extended to recognizing each of them and acknowledging their contributions. Her staff tended to be fiercely loyal, even if her more interesting quirks took some getting used to.

There was an inside joke that all the staff knew, about how Diana always told the new hires that there was a place for everything and everything should be in its **exact **place. If you asked Diana she would tell you the reason she got in the limo from the right side was simple. When she first started the Embassy in was in America, so the right side was always closest to the curb. It was just a habit of convenience nothing more. If you could get her staff to comment, which probably wouldn't happen, but if they did, they would pointed out that even if she had to walk around the car in the rain, Diana always got in the right side.

This also applied to why she sat alone in the back and had everyone face her. If you asked Diana, she would say that early on she realized that a woman of her considerable height sometimes intimidated someone sitting next to them. She also liked to look the person she was talking to in the eye. Again, if you somehow got her staff to talk to you, they would say those might be true, but Diana also didn't like squirming and twisting around on the seat to talk to someone. She didn't like the sound it made.

Why no plastic cups or even paper plates of any kind even the staff had never figured out. They would advice you not to ask her though. That was the cardinal sin that every staff member knew, never imply that she had quirks or that they might seem strange to someone else. You were in for a long, precise, detailed lecture about why you were completely wrong. It was simply a matter that Diana liked things a certain way and there was also a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things. Diana would also be happy to explain to you why her way was the right way.

* * *

><p>Tokyo<p>

Tom Tresser was jet lagged and in a foul mood as he rode towards the Agency office. Even though the case he was working on was no centered in Europe, he was still officially attached to the Far East division. This meant if they called, he had to come. They had called. Several flights and transfers later he was in Tokyo. He knew Sloan and Frasier were still dubious about what he was working on, but he wasn't going to be shifted to something else. Kent hadn't been cooperative yet, but it was just a matter of time.

Tom punched in the code and waited for the door to open. He walked into the office. Sloan and Frasier were waiting for him.

"I hope you had a damn good reason for summoning me!' Tom started right in. "I'm right in the middle of this!"

"You seem to forget who works for who, Tresser,' Frasier replied. "Since you brought this to us, two people are dead, a Senator's son and his girlfriend, the chief suspect is your supposed insider, yet we haven't had one bit of information from you. Has this Kent fellow given you anything?"

"He will,' Tom stated. "Besides, he didn't kill those kids. Any fool could see that."

"He's given you no information?" Frasier pressed him on this point.

"I said he would! He's starting to realize I'm his only option if he wants to stay out of jail."

"Oh, this is just marvelous, marvelous,' Frasier said with a laugh. He turned to Sloan. "Are you believing this bullshit?"

"Take it easy, both of you,' Sloan replied. "What do you mean Kent didn't kill those two Tresser?"

"It was a set up,' Tom informed him. "They were all drugged. The police theory that he beat them to death while on drugs and alcohol is bullshit. I've seen the man fight remember? He hits like a sledgehammer. If he hit that girl, he'd have caved her head in with his power. It was too neat, too staged, it is a classic set up job."

Sloan seemed to consider all this. Frasier was pacing back and forth listening.

"Then who killed them?" It was Sloan asking. "We're getting a lot of heat from the states about it."

"I don't know. My guess would be Grinka,' Tom offered. 'He seems to have plans of his own for Kent. Him and his little whore helped him, didn't they?"

"Oh, this is too much,' Frasier suddenly shouted. "You botch this whole thing and now try and cover it up with this wild theory?"

"I haven't botched anything!" Tom shouted in his defense. "Kent's still inside the organization! I know a desk warrior like yourself probably doesn't understand it, but these things take time!"

"Don't even try that Tresser,' Frasier replied. "I've worked in the field in Asia for almost twenty years. For all I know you killed the kids to get leverage on Kent."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Where were you that night,' Stone asked.

"Are you serious?" Tom couldn't believe this was happening. It a fit of anger he pulled out his gun and tossed it on Frasier's desk. "Check it if you like!"

Frasier immediately jumped on this.

"I will, where's the silencer that goes with it?"

Tom was livid. He pulled the silencer from his back hostler and tossed it with the gun.

"You're an even bigger idiot than I thought, Frasier,' Tom commented. "They weren't killed with a weapon, they were beat to death, remember?"

"Yes, but I also remember you like to use darts, tranquilizer darts on your suspects,' Frasier countered. "That's a really good way to deliver a drug, isn't it?"

Tom took a step towards Frasier, but Stone got between them.

"All right, enough, both of you! This isn't getting us anywhere!"

Tom and Frasier took a step back, but they were still staring at each other. Sloan went over to the safe and quickly dialed the combination. He pulled out a case and tossed it to Tom.

"What's this?"

"Since he's having your weapon checked you'll need another one,' Sloan explained. "I figure since you're in Europe now, a Walther PPK has a certain ring to it."

"I prefer my own gun."

"I'd prefer to be down in the Ginza drinking sake with two girls, but we all don't get what we want,' Sloan replied. "Take the gun and get back at it."

"You're seriously sending him back,' Frasier asked. "I think that's a mistake."

"I'll make note of it."

Sloan moved back over and sat down behind his desk.

"Your on a short leash, Tresser. Bring me something soon."

"Count on it."

Tom gave Frasier a look and then walked out, slamming the door behind him. The room was quiet for several moments. Frasier slowly walked over to his desk and looked down at Tom's gun. He pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket and picked up the silencer.

"That was a mistake,' Frasier said.

"I don't think so,' Sloan replied. "It was my call and I think Tresser is a good man."

"That wasn't the mistake I was talking about,' Frasier said, screwing on the silencer. Using the handkerchief, he raised he gun and shot himself in the flesh part of his arm. Sloan jumped up in shock.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Frasier winced and then swept everything off his desk in one violent move. He pointed the gun at Sloan.

"I'm making it look plausible."

"If this is a joke, Frasier, I'm not laughing,' Sloan said.

"No joke,' Frasier replied with a shake of his head. Then he smiled. "You want to know what the real joke is? Those two kids died for nothing. Kent hasn't given Tresser squat. That's the joke."

"What are you saying?'

"Oh, come on, Sloan, use your fucking head for once,' Frasier shouted. "This is the classic reveal scene where one of the real villains tells his plan. I always thought that was stupid when I saw it in the movies, but now I get it. The reason they tell is cause they want you to know. They want you to know what's going to happen. You know why? No? Cause there's not a damn thing you can do about it.'

"You're the killer?"

"The light finally comes on,' Frasier said with a laugh. "Now when I call it in, Tresser will have gone rogue. He stormed in here, shot me and then you two struggled. You didn't make it, Sloan."

Frasier squeezed the trigger four times. Each bullet hit Sloan in the chest. He went down with a stunned look on his face. Frasier slowly walked over.

"Tresser stole all the files we had on the Council and it's associates. I wasn't able to stop him, but you made one last heroic try. It earned you a bullet in the head."

Frasier squeezed the trigger and killed Sloan. He dropped Tresser's gun and used the handkerchief to stop the blood from his arm. Moving quickly, he took all the files and back up computer copies. He then trashed the office, before calling it in to headquarters.

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

A cold rain was falling as Clark returned to the safe house. He was soaked to the skin and just wanted a hot shower and fresh clothes. 'Strange Fruit' by Billie Holiday was playing as he opened the door. As he brushed the wet tangled hair from his eyes, he saw Suzette standing at the glass sliding doors staring out at the rain. He stopped when he realized she was crying.

"Suzette? What's wrong?" He asked, moving towards her. She turned at the sound of his voice. There was a gun in her hand. Clark stopped in his tracks.

"Suzette?"

"You. How could you? You used me?"

The hurt was plain in her voice. The irony certainly was lost on her. No one is quite so hurt and shocked as a user when they find out he or she may have been used.

"What are you talking about?"

She slowly reached and ran her fingertips over her cheek. She looked down at the tears on them. A cold expression came over her features as she looked back at Clark.

"I spoke to Max."

"Okay.'

"You're a spy. You're using me to inform on Julian's friends,' she stated. "How could you, Kal? I helped you get away from those murders?"

"I didn't kill those kids, Suzette."

"Lies. Of course you did,' she replied.

"No, I didn't. Yes, someone is trying to blackmail me into informing, but I've given him nothing,' Clark slowly explained. "I haven't betrayed you, I promise."

"More lies! You know what you've done? You've put a price on all of our heads! The only way out is for me to kill you now,' she whispered. "Max might let that be enough."

"I didn't betray you, Suzette. I'm telling the truth."

The sound of another gun being cocked made them both turn. Julian was leaning against the bedroom door. He was smiling and there was a gun in his hand.

"Suzette, put the gun down,' he patiently said. "You may be many things, but a killer is not one of them. Sadly, it appears our friend Horse isn't either. I must say I'm a little disappointed."

"Julian? Stay out of this,' Suzette replied. "Max is willing to forgive in exchange for his death."

"The impatience of youth,' Julian said with a sigh. "I still have so much to teach you, my dear. Put the gun down, Suzette, I won't say it again. It would sadden me greatly to kill you, but I will."

Reluctantly Suzette glanced at Clark and the set the gun down.

"Thank you. Now I suggest we all sit down,' Julian said, motioning towards the sofa and chairs. "I'm still not fully myself, so if you will?'

Clark and Suzette moved over to the couch, while Julian struggled to the chair and collapsed into it. Suzette seemed reluctant to be next to Clark but she said nothing.

"Much better,' Julian said with a sigh. His hand was steady, the gun still pointed in the direction of Clark.

"So a spy, Horse?"

"No."

Suzette spoke up.

"He's lying. Max knows all about what you're up to, he told me."

"Horse?"

"In Phuket, a man named Nemesis approached me about working for him, spying,' Clark explained. "I turned him down, but that wasn't good enough. He threatened to blackmail me unless I did what he wanted. The two murders happened. He showed up in Hong Kong, Moscow and Berlin, but I haven't given him any information. I don't really have anything to give him."

"That's probably true,' Julian admitted. "We thought you were coming along, but certainly didn't tell you anything that a real spy wouldn't already know."

Clark could feel Suzette's eyes on him as if she were considering this.

"It doesn't matter, Julian,' she said. "Max believes it and unless we do what he wants, we'll be targets too."

"We already are targets, my dear,' Julian replied. "As for Max, yes, he is a powerful man, but he's not the only powerful man. No matter what we do he has already put a price on our heads. He can't take the risk."

Julian turned his attention back to Clark.

"You said blackmail, what is he trying to blackmail you with?"

Clark sat trying to think of a reply. He wasn't good at lying, at least not good enough to convince these two. He would have to go with the truth. The absurdity of it wasn't lost on him. I used to be Superman seemed such a laughable thing to tell them. They would never believe him.

"My past,' he finally said.

"Would that involve Jordan Elliot?" Julian asked. He saw the surprise on Clark's face and smiled. "A weak man makes sure to notice details, Horse. You are not the sort that can just procure a quality fake passport, so I think it is genuine, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Your name is Jordan?" Suzette said. "Jordan Elliot?"

"No, but it used to be."

"What caused you to stop being Jordan Elliot, Horse,' Julian asked.

"Does it matter?" Clark replied.

"Normally, no, but this situation changes that,' Julian offered. "Something happened that caused you to stop being Jordan Elliot and I think it is also what you are being blackmailed with. Tell us what happened, Horse."

Clark saw he really had no alternative. He couldn't say it was because he used to be Superman, they wouldn't believe that. He was going to have to tell them about Lois and Jonathan. He thought he'd come to grips with it, but this was the first time he actually said it all out loud. As he explained, tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I was married,' he began. "We had a son. We had a nice little house in the suburbs. We were happy. One day a man I'd helped put away years ago came to our house. I didn't see him coming. I don't know why, I should have seen him. He picked up a shovel and hit me. I could hear my wife scream and my son cry. The man moved from me to them. I should have been able to stop, but I couldn't. He killed them both right in front of my eyes. I should have protected them. I should have been able to save them. It was my responsibility to save them, but I couldn't. It's always like that, I can never save those I care about."

Clark felt it all come rushing back. He couldn't stop the tears. Julian and Suzette just sat watching him for several minutes. They offered no sympathetic words and just seemed fascinated by his show of emotion. It was as if they were watching some clinical experiment. They were fascinated, but there was no emotional attachment.

"What happened to the man?" Julian finally asked.

"He came back to finish me off too,' Clark managed to say. "I got my hands on him and managed to stop him, but it was already too late."

"Stop him?"

Clark wiped away the tears and looked at Julian.

"I killed him. Is that what you want to hear? I put my hands around his neck and squeezed until the light went out in his eyes."

"And then?"

"I couldn't stay there any longer. Every part of the house held memories. They haunted me and I just couldn't stay there any longer. I burned the house down and left. You know the rest."

"The killing was justifiable, Horse," Julian replied. "The arson, probably wouldn't have carried too much of a charge, that hardly seems like blackmail material."

"Maybe,' Clark admitted. "I left before any of that was decided. That life ended that day. Nemesis thought he could use it against me. As I said, I've told him nothing."

"You were married?" Suzette asked. This seemed to shock her more than anything. She had imagined all sorts of stories about who he used to be. The truth seemed so ordinary.

"Yes."

"Unbelievable," she said. Her attention turned back to Julian. "Max will have sent men by now, Julian. If we don't act, they will take the decision out of our hands. We can still make a deal with him."

"Suzette, my sweet, what is the first lesson I taught you? Never take the first offer, Julian said. "We thought that Horse killed those two and this would be an adventure. It seems he has surprised us again. It is an adventure, but a much better adventure."

"Julian,' Suzette started to protest.

"No, Max has made his offer, but I think others will offer more,' he explained. "Like many men with a little power, Max thinks he is the only one that has power. It would be weakness to admit otherwise."

Julian lowered his gun and started laughing. He seemed genuinely happy.

"This is marvelous, Horse! This Nemesis, he's an American, yes?"

"Yes."

"I believe I have head of him. He's driven, something about his brother?"

"Yes."

"Julian,' Suzette complained. "We don't have time for this!"

"My dear, this is like Saigon before the fall,' Julian replied. "Max and his friends are just one of the players. They have enemies, not just on the other side of the law, either. We are in a unique position, the three of us. Horse still needs our protection and we need him as well. Each side wants to make a deal with us. We have something of value to all of them. In Saigon that meant you could play one against the other, working for the highest bidder."

"We need to leave, Julian, none of that matters if we're dead,' Suzette stated.

"Yes, you are quite right. Perhaps it is time we visited Paris. I know people there as well. People not connected to Max and his friends. I will make a few calls and we will leave tonight."

Julian struggled to stand but finally made it. He went into his room leaving Clark and Suzette alone. They were both standing, looking at each other.

"So should I call you Jordan now?' She asked.

"No, he died with his family."

"It seems we will be together a bit longer,' she replied. "I am still angry that you used me. I won't forget that."

"Nor will I that you wanted to kill me,' Clark countered. "I think we both understand each other now."

"Yes, we do."

She held his eyes for a moment and then moved towards Julian's room.

"I'll help him. You should get ready to leave,' she said. Clark didn't reply.

Part of him was still shaking from the tide of emotions that had come rushing back. Just hearing it out loud seemed to have such finality about it. They would always be with him, but it was time to move on. His mind shifted to something else that had been plaguing him. Sarajevo. He wasn't a hero now. He was reminded of the sad truth, he could never seem save anyone, especially those he loved. Maybe though, he could help someone else save someone. At least he could try. To do nothing was to become like Julian and Suzette, just watching on the sidelines.

He walked into the bedroom and informed them he had to make a detour, but would meet them in Paris. Julian asked if it was a woman. Clark just said he had to see a friend.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

It was the last hour of daylight and the rain had stopped. Diana's meetings for the day were over. She had sent her assistants on ahead to prepare for the final day of the conference. She dismissed the security car that usually preceded her limo, thinking it was a resource better used guarding someone else. She had been on alert for anything out of the ordinary. Security took her warning seriously and had been heightened. So far nothing had happened. There was only one more day left, so perhaps this wasn't the target after all. Kal's information was rather vague, but she wasn't taking anything for granted.

She sat alone in the back of limousine on her way to her hotel. Diana sipped her glass of mineral water and looked out on the city. It had been shelled and badly damaged just a few years ago during the fighting, but had made a remarkable comeback. You had to look close to see any remaining signs of the siege. Shops, restaurants and stores they were all open again. Life had come back to the city. It had always been a rather international place and some of that was coming back too.

As they silently rolled down the wide boulevard, she casually glanced out the side window. Diana nearly choked on her water, as standing on the street corner drinking a beer in front of a cafe was Kal.

"Pull-Pull over, please! Yes, right over there at that corner,' she frantically shouted to her driver. The limo managed to cut across the traffic and stop by the street corner, but it was facing the wrong way. Diana wanted to immediately jump out of the car, but the light had changed and traffic was moving too close to open it.

"Damn him,' she mutter, as she slid across the seat and opened the left door closest to the curb. What is he thinking, she wondered? The entire continent is looking for him and he just casually stands on a street corner drinking! He is an idiot! He doesn't have to worry about being arrested, cause I'm going to kill him, Diana thought!

Diana wasn't dressed in her armor; she had a simple black evening dress that ended just above her knee and heels on. There was a puddle just next to where they had stopped so she had to stretch to get her foot on the sidewalk. This caused her dress to inch up exposing quite a bit of thigh. She glanced at Kal and saw him smile. When he whistled, she knew she was going to hit him.

Finally managing to extricate herself from the limo, Diana stormed down the sidewalk to him.

"Nice legs,' he said as she approached.

"Are you insane?" She replied. She wanted to shout at him, but that would draw too much attention on such a public street. "Do you want to be arrested? Get in the car now!"

Diana was livid. She grabbed him by the arm and started to yank him towards the limo.

"Diana."

"What?"

"People are starting to stare. They're wondering why that beautiful woman is either mugging or kidnapping that man."

Diana stopped and glanced around. She could see everyone looking.

"Just get in the car or I'm going to really give them something to see, you imbecile!"

"Boy, she flashes a little leg and thinks she can order anyone around,' Clark said teasingly.

"Just get in the car, Kal! Now!"

"Yes, ma'am."

He started to finish his plastic cup of beer. Diana made a face and then stopped him. With just her fingertips she took it from him and tossed it in the trashcan.

"I wasn't finished with that.' He protested.

"You've obviously had more than enough, if you're standing out on street corners where anyone could see you!"

"I wasn't standing on the street corner till your car came by Diana,' he replied. "I saw those little flags on the front and stepped out."

"Be that as it may, get in the car, Kal or these people are going to see the pretty lady beat up the man,' Diana fired back.

"I said beautiful, not pretty."

"Get in the car, Kal!" Diana said through clenched teeth.

"All right, jeez, you're so bossy."

Diana muttered under her breath the whole way to the car. She practically pushed him in first. She rolled her eyes when she saw him sit on the back seat. Of course he would, she thought, he was so infuriating! Barely holding her temper, Diana got in and closed the door. They were sitting side by side.

"Is everything all right, Madame Ambassador?" The driver asked.

"What? Oh, um, yes, I just need to speak to this man about, um, well, Embassy business in private,' Diana managed to reply. "Thank you, please continue the trip."

The driver nodded and slowly pulled them away from the curb, edging her way into traffic. Diana had to reach across Clark to press the button to close the partition. When it finally sealed tight, she shifted on the seat to face him.

"Have you lost your mind, Kal? What were you thinking? Do you want to get arrested?" She shouted and began slapping him.

"Ow, Diana, that hurts!" He complained. This time he was at least smart enough to cover up.

"Good!"

She gave him one more smack just for good measure. Her dress was riding up because of her having to shift around on the seat and she saw his eyes glancing at this. She saw him start to smile and smacked him again. She quickly pulled the dress back down.

"You lost that privilege, Kal, now sit over there,' she ordered, pointing to the opposite seat.

"Why?"

Diana had explained this so many times it came out by rote. He listened to her explanation about being tall and intimidating others, but his expression said he wasn't buying it.

"Diana, I'm taller than you are, remember? I'm not intimidated by you,' he replied. "I'm a little worried about your temper, but not intimidated."

"If you keep arguing with me, you will be," Diana fired back. "Just sit over there."

"I don't like sitting backwards,' Clark countered. "I like to face forward, besides we can talk just as easily like this as if I sit over that. There's plenty of room back here for both of us."

"Kal, damn it, it's my car, sit over there!"

With a sigh, he reluctantly moved across the back to the other seat. Diana resumed her usual position, straightening her dress and getting herself under control before speaking.

"Why are you here, Kal?"

"2 reasons,' he replied. "I thought you wanted to see me, but from that reception I'm rethinking that."

"Kal!"

"The conference, Diana."

This brought her up short.

"The conference? What about it?"

"I know the information was vague, but I can't shake the feeling this is where they are going to strike,' Clark explained.

"I've already informed security, Kal, everyone is on high alert,' Diana replied. "The conference ends tomorrow."

"I know and I hope I'm wrong,' he said. "I was reading up on it and the benefit at the end. The show is going to have all the dignitaries in attendance. I think that's the perfect place for them to try."

"I'll pass it along, but I doubt they'll increase security again,' Diana stated. She noticed he glanced at her legs again, so she reacted and slapped him.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"I already said you lost that privilege and I wasn't kidding,' she primly replied.

"So I can't look at your legs?"

"No."

"They're really nice legs, Diana, it's going to be hard to resist."

He flashed her a smile, but she wasn't giving in.

"You didn't seem to have too much trouble resisting in Phuket," she fired back at him.

The smile disappeared from his lips now. He knew this was touchy territory. He could only imagine how humiliating his rejecting her must have been. He seriously doubted she'd ever done anything like that before, so that only made it worse.

"I was being honest in the note, Diana, I don't know the words to tell you how sorry I am."

The hurt was still there for Diana, but she did believe him. Part of her even understood his explanation, but her embarrassment and bruised feelings were still recovering.

"Think of yourself on probation, Kal. I'll let you know when things change,' she finally offered.

"I can't look at your legs?"

"No."

His eyes shifted slightly higher.

"So obviously no looking at your …"

The fury he saw in her eyes stopped him from finishing his sentence.

"Obviously!"

He raised his eyes to look into hers.

"How about your eyes? Is that okay?"

"Yes."

He held her gaze, Diana wasn't really sure how long. Other emotions besides anger and hurt seemed to flood through her. His eyes had always captivated her and the years had done nothing to diminish their effect. Diana swallowed as he tentatively reached over and brushed one of her curls away from her cheek.

"Your lips?' He whispered, his eyes still holding hers.

"Wh-What?"

"May I look at them?"

"Yes,' Diana replied. Her reply had a breathless quality to it. He seemed to glance down at her mouth for a moment, before looking back at her eyes. Diana felt herself tremble as he started to lean towards her. Her eyes moved to his lips, as they grew closer. She stopped him, putting her hand on his chest and gently pushing him away. Perhaps a younger version of herself would have surrendered to the temptation, but she was older and wiser now, the hurt was still there. She wasn't ready to forgive him that easily.

"Look, Kal, not touch."

He immediately leaned back and lowered his head. His legs stretched out on either side of hers. He nodded before looking into her eyes and then looked down at his hands.

"Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push."

"Yes you did,' she replied. When he looked at her, she gave him a small smile. "Why don't we concentrate on something else? Tell me why you're here, Kal? Every precaution is being taken. Were you planning on taking on the assassins yourself and saving whoever they are targeting?"

"No, I-I don't save people Diana,' he quietly replied, as he looked at his hands again. She felt an intense sadness come over him, but before she could say anything he continued. "You're the hero, Diana, you save people. I thought maybe just this once, I could help you do it."

"How?"

"I know what they look like,' he explained. "I thought I could hang around outside and look for them. If I see them, I'd call you and tell you on the inside. You could be at the door they were entering in moments."

"Okay, that does sound good,' Diana replied. "One thing though, once everyone is inside, the security is going to jam all frequencies around the Opera hall in case of remote triggered bombs, that sort of thing. How would you contact me then?"

"If I haven't seen them by the time everyone is inside, then it probably means I was wrong,' Clark offered. "I just want to be sure, Diana."

"All right, but as I said, security is going to be everywhere. You are going to have to be very careful,' she offered. "You are a fugitive, remember?"

"Hard not to."

Clark turned in the seat to see where they were. Diana couldn't help letting her eyes move over his broad shoulders down his muscular back to his trim waist. Her eyes might have gone lower, but he suddenly shifted and moved back over to her side of the car.

"Slide over,' he said, moving next to her.

"Kal! We've been over this!' Diana started to protest, even as he forced her to shift on the seat.

"Look, we're coming up on the Opera hall and I can't show you what I have in mind and be completely turned around at the same time,' He explained. "If it helps, just think of it as removing temptation from right in front of me."

"But I don't like this,' Diana complained.

"It's the best plan I could come up with, Diana. See right there? Those are the main doors, plus the secondary ones.' Clark pointed out to her. "If I stay across the street, say at that café, I should be safe."

He leaned against her as he pointed to the café. Diana suddenly found herself looking at him from a very close distance. He always does this to me, she thought, messes with the way I like things. He's so stubborn and infuriating! He is exceedingly handsome though. No, no, don't think about that, she chided herself.

"Kal, sit over there! Will you, please?"

He turned and looked at her.

"Why are you being so difficult about this?" He asked.

"Me?" Diana gasped, not believing he had said that. "You're the difficult one! You're stubborn and act like a jackass most of the time! Now would you please sit over there!"

Clark rolled his eyes and then slowly moved back to the other seat.

"And I'm the difficult one,' he grumbled.


	23. Chapter 23

A hotel in Sarajevo

Sarajevo

The limo proceeded towards Diana's hotel. The rush and surprised of seeing each other again had started to wear off. Both slipped into silence. Their last meeting was on both of their minds. The hotel room in Phuket had changed things. For him it was simple or as least it should have been. A gorgeous woman wanted to be with him. 99% of the time that required little or no thought, the answer was always yes. What made it complicated, that 1%, was who that gorgeous woman was.

Diana.

She made everything complicated for him. Phuket left no doubt he wanted her. Phuket made it clear she wanted him or at least she had. Pride and fear had ruined it. The time since then only made him realize what a colossal mistake he'd made and how much he still wanted her. As they rode towards the hotel, he realized he didn't care about the repercussions. He didn't want to think about what it would mean for the future to make love to her. Tomorrow seemed a million miles away as he gazed across the car at her. She is just so God damned irresistible, he thought. He wanted to reach out and touch her, just to make sure she was real.

But he couldn't. He'd screwed that up just like it seemed he'd done with everything in his life. Even the way he'd approached her coming here. He'd thought it would be surprising and maybe charming to her that he would just show up on a street corner as her car drove by. If he'd given it any real thought, he would have seen how alarming if would be to her. He was a fugitive, wanted by probably every police force in Europe. Of course her first reaction would be shock and fright that he would take such a foolish risk.

It was an impulsive, stupid thing to do, he knew. On the ride down he'd come up with it, thinking maybe the surprise would be enough to get them passed his insulting behavior in Phuket. It was such a juvenile wish that she would forget and he wouldn't have to answer for his behavior. She wasn't going to let him off that easy. All the farm boy charm and playfulness wasn't going to get him out of being an adult and dealing with what had happened. He knew she wasn't going to accept anything less.

There was the other problem Diana wouldn't accept anything less. The hotel in Phuket had been the aberration; it wasn't likely to be repeated. She wasn't the sort of woman that had one-night stands. If he slept with her, she would expect, no demand more. Clark wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Just the day before he'd broken down in tears just relating how Lois and Jonathan had died. That certainly didn't indicate a man ready to start a new relationship with anyone.

If he was honest with himself there was maybe a little fear involved too. Fear he didn't measure up. It wasn't the farm boy and Princess nonsense he'd told her years ago, but the cold hard facts of the situation. Sitting this close to her drove home how little he really had to offer any woman, especially Diana. His life was a mess even without being a fugitive.

Diana could feel his eyes looking at her every so often. She tried to concentrate on the buildings passing by the window, but found her eyes drifting to him. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. When she hadn't known where he was, Diana found she very much wanted to know. She wanted to see him. Now he was right in front of her. She suddenly realized she hadn't thought beyond just seeing him. That wasn't like her at all. She always planned ahead. It was part of her nature, as Ambassador and Wonder Woman to consider all the possible scenarios and hazards that might unfold. It was what made her such a good leader and warrior. She never went into a fight or even negotiations without considering everything beforehand.

As she glanced over at him again, their last meeting in Phuket was still on her mind. The hurt, the embarrassment, the humiliation were all still there, but so was the original reason she'd gone. It made no sense to her, but she still wanted him. She couldn't seem to be indifferent when it came to him. Kal was such a frustrating and confusing man, more than any other she'd met. She should have been happy that he came to see her, but the way he did it just infuriated her. Standing on a street corner as if he hadn't a care in the world! She felt like reaching out and hitting him again at the thought just for good measure. She didn't, but it was oh so tempting.

There in lay her problem. He was here now and she didn't know what she wanted to do. She was a proud woman so the sting of his rejection was still present. She certainly wasn't going to do that again she thought. It wasn't out of vindictiveness or some desire to hurt him as he'd hurt her, but just that it had ended so badly. Her first attempt to seduce someone had been a colossal failure, Diana wasn't eager to risk that again.

Of course she'd made the worst pick for whom she was going to seduce, she thought. Diana never knew what was going through Kal's mind most of the time. Hera, why did she have to pick him of all people? It should have been easy, but he made it complicated. He always made things complicated for her. He seemed to change from one minute to the next. The way he'd looked at her earlier and even tried to kiss her plainly showed he was interested, but now he's sitting across from her sullen and barely glancing at her.

Was he thinking of that night in Phuket too, Diana wondered?

"Could you have your driver pulled over up here, please?"

It was his voice that first cut into the silence.

"Why?' She asked.

"I'd like to get out,' he replied. His expression said he thought that was self-evident.

"I want you to come back to my hotel so I can talk to you,' Diana said. She thought she saw his eyebrow rise just a bit, so she quickly added. "Just talk, Kal."

"That's not the best idea, Diana,' he countered. "Even if it is to just talk, it puts you at risk for harboring a fugitive. I don't want to take that risk."

"We are not going to have this stupid argument again. You're in my car, so I'm already technically harboring a fugitive. We'll discuss this when we get back to the hotel, so just sit back and relax. That's final, Kal,' she informed him.

"Excuse me? It's what?"

"That's final. Kal, I'm tired of arguing with you about this,' Diana replied. "I don't need you to protect me. We're going to my hotel room. I've made the decision."

"You've made the decision? I don't get any say in this,' he asked.

"No, because that seems to be the only way to get through to you,' she informed him. "You've been making decisions that affect me without asking me, so now I'm putting my foot down and making this one. We're going to my hotel room."

He learned closer to her.

"I hate to inform you, Princess, but I don't work for you," he said. "If you won't tell your driver to pull over, I'll just do it myself!"

He raised his fist to bang on the glass partition, but Diana reached out and took hold of his wrist. He tried to pull away from her, but he couldn't budge against her grip.

"Diana, let go of my hand!"

"No."

Their eyes were locked and he could see she wasn't backing down on this.

"Fine, I won't bang on the glass,' he reluctantly said. "Now would you please let go of my wrist?"

She did and sat back. She couldn't help giving a little satisfied smile. This just angered him more.

"I won't bang on the glass, but if you won't stop this car, I can just jump, I guess."

He started to move towards the door. Diana reached over and pressed the button that locked all the doors. Her smile got a little bigger as she saw how angry he was.

"Diana, unlock the door."

"No."

He sat back and stared at her hard.

"So what? You're kidnapping me?"

"Yes, if that's what it takes,' she informed him.

"There are laws against holding someone against their will," he replied. "I would think as an Ambassador you would know that. Open the doors, Diana."

"I have diplomatic immunity, remember? Besides, you're a wanted fugitive, Kal,' she explained. "How would it look if I just let you go? My responsibility is to make sure the general public is safe from people like you. Keeping you in this car and later my hotel room is for the greater good."

He crossed his arms in front of him, stewing in anger, as he watched her smile get even bigger.

"Oh, aren't you clever,' he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "I see 13 years has taught you to twist words with the best of them. I commend you on your diplomatic skills."

"Thank you."

He shifted forward, closer to her.

"You know as a desperate, wanted fugitive, I could attack you," he suggested. "That's the sort of thing desperate wanted fugitives do, isn't it?"

"You'd lose." She just continued to smile.

"Yeah, I probably would,' he had to admit. He seemed to think about it for a moment. "I could scream for help? I could say you assaulted me on the street. I have witnesses. The police wouldn't care about your diplomatic immunity then, Diana."

"True, but you would be in jail, Kal. I could just say I spotted you and picked you up off the street before you could do any more harm,' she countered. "Who do you think they would believe? A wanted fugitive or Wonder Woman?"

"That's low, Diana, pulling the Wonder Woman card,' he snapped. She couldn't help laughing just a bit at this.

"Either way you'd be caught, Kal. So which is preferable, here with me or a local jail?"

"Which local jail?" He asked. Her smile slipped a little bit at this and now he smiled.

"Aren't you funny." She snidely commented. "You're staying, Kal."

"I don't have much choice, do I?'

"No."

He seemed to think about this for a moment. She could stop him easily if he tried to leave. She was such a stubborn woman; he knew he wasn't going to change her mind. He was stuck and he didn't like that one bit. He wasn't going to make this easy on her, but force was out of the question.

"So since I'm your prisoner, do I get one phone call?"

"No."

"How about one request?"

"There's water in the side compartment if you're thirst," Diana replied. "Sorry, no alcohol on board."

She gave a little smirk and he grumbled at this.

"That wasn't the request."

"I'm not opening the doors or letting you go,' she said.

"Fair enough, but are you going to grant me my one request?"

"What is it?"

"Kiss me."

"What? No!"

He leaned towards her, looking into her eyes.

"You're in control, Diana, I'm your prisoner,' he whispered. 'I'm helpless here. It doesn't seem like that big a request, just kiss me once and I'll be a model prisoner."

'You're never helpless, Kal,' she replied. "Besides, I am in control, so give me one reason why I should kiss you?"

"Because you want to," he whispered, a smile on his lips.

"Don't flatter yourself, Kal,' she snapped. She crossed her arms in front of her and then sat a little further back into the seat. She was still looking into his eyes, though.

"Phuket, Diana,' he said. "I screwed that up, but before that I could tell you were turned on. You flew half way around the world, so you must have been thinking about it the whole way. You kissed me almost as soon as we saw each other. I wanted you then and I still do. I know I probably ruined it, but just so I know exactly what I missed out on, kiss me. Just once and I won't ask again."

He had cut the space between them in half, getting down on one knee. The temptation was right there for her, but she wasn't going to give in that easily.

"So you want me, is that right, Kal?"

"Yes."

"What happens if I do kiss you? Are you going to change your mind again?"

"No."

"That's so easy to say right now,' she observed.

"Look, if you're asking will I do something to piss you off again, Diana, I probably will,' he admitted. "Not intentionally of course. Once tomorrow's over I'm going to be back on the run, so I can't make any promises regarding the future either. I can only speak to right now, right here. I want to kiss you, Diana. I want you to kiss me, no holding back this time."

"And if I say yes, what then?" She asked.

"I don't know,' he replied. "I can only think of right now. Do you want to kiss me Diana?"

"Yes." It came out as a whisper, but it was full of emotions.

They held each other's eyes as he moved to her. She leaned forward, slipping her arms around his shoulders, as his wrapped around her. She hesitated just a moment as the fleeting thought that this was wrong came to her mind. She didn't care she wanted to kiss him. Diana made the finally move, closing the tiny distance between them. Her lips pressed against his, tentatively at first, but responded when he deepened the kiss.

"No holding back, Diana,' he whispered, before kissing her again. Control and holding back had become second nature to her. She was so used to regulating everything, it actually took a conscious thought to let go. It was a little frightening, but when he didn't pull away, Diana relaxed and just enjoyed the kiss. One led to two and then three. Their hands began to roam over each other's bodies, as it got more intense. Only the sound of her driver's voice announcing they had arrived made them stop.

Slowly he pulled back. He wanted more, but had given his word. He held her eyes as he moved back to the seat across from her. Diana felt a little breathless and knew she wanted to continue, but they were at the hotel. She licked her lips, still tasting him. Holding his eyes, she could see she wasn't the only one that felt the desire still. As the limo pulled into the underground garage, she smiled at him.

"One kiss, Kal?"

"You didn't seem to object,' he replied.

"You were always greedy."

"You could have stopped me any time, Diana."

"Yes, I could have."

Diana glanced out the window and saw they were just about to stop by the elevator doors. She turned and looked at him.

"Remember your promise and behave yourself, Kal. We're here."

"Yes, ma'am."

The car came to a stop and he moved towards the door, the left door.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Getting out,' he replied, opening it and holding it open for her.

"That's the wrong door, Kal."

He looked at her for a moment.

"The what?"

"The wrong door,' she repeated. By now the driver had gotten out and come around to the right side. She opened the door for Diana. She got out and turned to see him getting out the left side.

"The wrong door, Diana?"

His eyes shifted to the driver and could see the young woman was nervous. Diana saw this too and turned to address the driver.

"Thank you, that's all for tonight."

The young woman nodded and then quickly moved away. Diana turned back towards Clark and saw him leaning his hands on the top of the car.

"The wrong door, Diana? Really?"

"Yes, Kal, now come on," she said, starting for the elevator. He caught up with her and walked along side.

"So the right door I take it, is the correct door?"

"Yes."

"Interesting." He gave a chuckle at this. She turned and looked at him.

"What's so funny?"

"I just realize why you were so pissed when you saw me on the street,' he replied. "It must have made you livid having to get out the wrong door like that."

"Yes it did,' she countered. Now it was her turn to get angry.

"Just so I know ahead of time, is there a good side to stand in the elevator?"

"You're going to be smart and make funny of me now?'

Diana reached out and grabbed his belt and easily lifted him off the ground.

"Any other funny comments, Kal?"

He gave a groan, and quickly shook his head no. Diana set him back down. Clark bent over to catch his breath.

"Don't make fun of the Princess's quirks, I think I got it, Diana,' he managed to say.

"They're not quirks, they're preferences, Kal," she said in her defense. "And yes, don't make fun of them."

"You could have just said that,' he complained.

"Actions speak louder than words. Now come on."

He gingerly walked towards the elevator. He was trailing her and couldn't help looking at her. Diana glanced back over her shoulder and saw this.

"No looking there either, Kal."

"So you kidnap me and now want to torture me,' he replied. She smiled but didn't say anything as she waited for the elevator.

* * *

><p>Berlin<p>

Tom heard the news through the grapevine. Frasier that rat had set him up. Now Tom was a wanted man by the whole agency. Since Sloan had been murdered, they wouldn't be taking any chances. That meant shoot first just to be safe. It seemed his whole case was turning to shit right in front of his eyes. Kent and the other two had disappeared and now Tom was thought of as a rogue agent. Well, if they wanted a rogue, they got one, he thought.

Screw the rules; he was going to bust this all wide open. He would take down Frasier, the Council, and Kent, anyone that got in his way. It was all or nothing now and Tom didn't plan on losing.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

They made it up to Diana's hotel room with little problems. She did have to offer an explanation to her assistants, something about needing to consult with him about security, but now they were alone. Clark watched her for a moment and couldn't help noticing she seemed happy.

"You're enjoying ordering me around, aren't you?" He asked.

"Yes,' Diana replied. She couldn't help smiling at the idea.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable doing it,' he offered.

"Oh really?' Diana said with a cock of her head. She slowly walked over and stood right in front of him. "You are my prisoner, Kal, until I let you go."

He suddenly reached out and took hold of her waist with both his hands and lifted her straight up off the floor.

"Kal! Put me down!" Diana shouted.

"Just wanted you to know you're not the only one that can do this trick,' he replied, before setting her back down. Her body pressed against his as she slipped back to the floor. Her hands were resting on his shoulders, as they were standing very close. "I don't like being ordered around, Diana, even by you."

"I was having some fun while it lasted,' she complained.

"You were enjoying it a little too much."

His hands were still holding onto her waist, keeping her close. He took a step back.

"Um, you said you wanted to talk?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, about tomorrow,' Diana replied. "I wanted to go over the details of what we're going to do."

"Not we, you Diana,' Clark corrected her. "I'm not doing anything but watching. You're the hero here. You do the saving, not me."

He moved away, over to look out the window. Diana stared at him, wondering what was going on inside his head.

"You said that before. What do you mean by that? You don't save people?" She asked

"Just that,' he replied. "I'm not a hero, Diana."

"But you were, Kal,' she countered. "You saved people all the time or are you referring to Lois and your son?"

She knew this was dangerous territory with him. His wife and son's death always seemed off limits when they talked before. Diana couldn't imagine how terrible it must be, but she felt it was something he needed to address. She was prepared for him to lash you at her or tell her to mind her own damn business, but he gave her the opening, so she took it.

It had started to rain. Clark looked out the window watching the droplets roll down the glass. He heard her question and knew she was waiting for an answer. It was an honest question and deserved an honest answer. The memory of breaking down the other day when he'd actually spoke about it out loud was still fresh in his mind. He didn't want her to see a repeat of that. He decided to give her another answer instead. It was equally true, but he had never admitted it to anyone.

"Do you remember when I gave up my powers, Diana?"

The question surprised her. He was standing in the shadows, still looking out the window.

"Yes, of course."

"Everyone thinks about the ending or the happy ending to that,' he said. "What they seem to forget is what a disaster it was before. Pete Ross was tortured and killed because he knew who I was. I couldn't save him. I took everyone close to me to the Fortress thinking I could save all of them, but I couldn't. I had all the powers in the world, yet they all died. Jimmy, Lana, Pete, even Lex all died because of their connection to me. You mentioned Lois. I didn't even save her. She saved herself. She hid until it was pretty much over. Once it was done, I realized that I'd killed, something I swore I'd never do. That was the reason I gave up my powers or at least that's what everyone thought, even Lois. I never told her this, but that was only part of it. The other part was I couldn't save them. What was the use of having all those powers if I couldn't even save the ones closest to me?"

He turned and looked at Diana. He seemed haunted by the memory and she wanted to reach out to him. Before she could, he continued.

"I gave it all up and put it behind me. I thought I could find a little place away from all of that and just live. I loved Lois and thought our little world in the suburbs was safe. It wasn't. I couldn't save them either. It seems powers or no powers; I can't save people, Diana. Tomorrow I hope maybe I can help you a little bit, but the saving is all yours."

"Kal, you can't blame yourself for all those deaths. You aren't responsible."

"I know what you're saying, Diana, I do,' he replied. "I've told myself the same things many times. It all sounds logic and right, but it doesn't help. I should have been able to save them. I should have, but I couldn't."

"So what now,' she asked. "Will you just avoid getting close to anyone again?"

"That's the irony,' he said with a said chuckle. "I've been trying to do that since I left Metropolis, but I've realized this last year I can't. I wish I could, but I can't. As bad as it got, I still sought out some connection. They might be the most fleeting and impersonal, but I couldn't do without them."

"So what do you do now?"

"I don't know,' he admitted. "I'm here now. I'll do what I can to help you tomorrow. Beyond that, I don't really know. I'm still a fugitive, so I'll have to leave sometime tomorrow. Hopefully, things work out, but either way, it's too dangerous for me to stay here."

Diana walked over and hugged him. He returned her embrace and they just stood together in silence. He leaned up and kissed her on the forehead.

"Thank you for listening. I should probably go though."

"You could stay here tonight?"

Diana was probably more shocked by the words coming from her mouth than he was. She had told herself she wasn't going to risk this again. She wasn't going to risk getting hurt by him like last time. Yet when she heard he was leaving tomorrow, she suddenly realized there was no telling when she would see him again. Suddenly the risks didn't seem quite so great.

"Stay, Kal."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Diana."

"Stay anyway."

"Diana, if this is because you're feeling sorry for me or …"

She cut him off before he could finish.

"No, Kal, it has nothing to do with any of that. I disagree with you about all of it, but that's not what this is about. You said it yourself you're here now. So am I. Stay."

"What about afterwards, tomorrow?"

"We'll worry about that then."

Diana moved into him and kissed him. For once she didn't worry about control and let herself just get lost in the kiss.

"Stay Kal,' she whispered. "And this time, no holding back for either of us."


	24. Chapter 24

Words and Deeds

Sarajevo

"Forever is composed of nows."

"What?"

"It's a quote from Emily Dickinson."

"I'm not sure I understand, Kal?"

He smiled.

"Just keep it in mind."

There is another quote from Emily Dickinson that he didn't offer. 'Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes.' It's not his words; it's his deeds that show a man's true character.

It started with just the touch of his fingertips. Goosebumps appeared on her skin where they hadn't been before. She felt as if she were trembling, nervous, excited and unsure. Saying no holding back was one thing, going against every conditioned response was another.

She could do this.

She wanted to do this.

His fingertips seemed to always stay in contact with her skin. Soft as a butterfly's wing, yet potent enough for her to feel. They didn't seek out the obvious locations, but just continually caressed her bare skin. It surprised her, as it wasn't what she was expecting. Then his lips met hers. She responded. This was familiar, something she knew. It was safe territory. She moved a little closer, slipping her arms around his neck.

She felt his fingertips trace along her shoulders, while his thumbs brushed against her upper arms. She started to speak, but he continued to kiss her.

"Kal."

It was the only word she managed to get out between kisses.

She was a little confused, as he seemed to linger over her lips. It was luscious in its way, but there was none of the urgency she expected. As they continued to kiss, she tried not to compare this to previous times. She was only human though. She kept expecting him to move towards the bedroom. That was the goal every other time. She expected it; even in Phuket when she had made the first move it was the next step. She expected his hands to move to the more intimate parts of her body, but they still hadn't. As close as she was to him, she could feel his arousal.

There was no movement towards what she expected. They remained in each other's arms kissing. She wanted to question him, but they were good kisses. As one linger kiss followed another, Diana become more and more focused on the kisses rather than what would be next. He pulled her closer, yet made no move other then to deepen their embrace. She found herself responding, running her fingers through his hair as she pressed herself even tighter to him.

Those fingertips continued to stroke and caress her skin. His touch moved across her shoulder blades tracing the subtle curves of her back. She gasped when the sound of the zipper on her dress being opened reached her ears. She waited, but only his fingertips moved under the material brushing against her skin, tracing her spine all the way down.

Diana felt his tongue tease its way between her lips and flick at her own. She felt off kilter, yet excited, unsure how to react. She found herself pressing even harder against him, her own tongue chasing his. Her hands slowly began to explore his shoulders and broad back, feeling the muscles just under his shirt. She'd almost forgotten they were still wearing clothes.

He just continued to kiss and caress her, making no move to go any further. This surprised and puzzled her. She enjoyed the foreplay, the build up, but he wasn't doing it the way it was supposed to progress. Diana had enough experience to know how this dance went, but he wasn't doing his part. Usually by now they were on the bed, their clothes a distant memory, but still they stood rooted in this one spot just kissing.

But they were such good kisses.

He seemed to want nothing more from her. Each kiss seemed to linger just a bit longer than the previous one. She had kissed her share of men, but even this felt different. Diana moved forward, pressing herself even tighter to him, hoping to spur him to further action. His response was to start kissing along her cheek and moving towards her ear.

She could feel his lips against her neck and it sent little shivers down her body.

"Kal."

There was a plaintive tone in her voice, yet his only response was to continue. It was all starting to affect her. She could feel the slow build of heat inside. She couldn't help tilting her head to the side as his lips moved over her skin. A small groan came from her lips. It felt so good, but she wanted more.

It was as simple as that, she wanted more.

Up to this point she'd been a passive participant. She'd allowed him to dictate the pace of this encounter. The need that was starting to rise inside her didn't want to wait for him. It wanted more. Diana wanted more.

It was a subtle shift, but she took a more active role. It started with her fingertips. She reached between them and started unbuttoning his shirt. He neither stopped her nor commented just continued to kiss her. When she reached the last button, she pulled his shirt from his trousers and it fluttered open. Her fingers skimmed over his bare skin. A different sort of groan came from her lips. It was one of desire. Pressing against him, she let her hands roam all over his upper body. Her lips sought out his skin, as if to taste him. She placed small little kisses over his shoulder. She licked along his collarbone, and then moved up to nip at his throat. A gasp escaped his lips and just seemed to fuel the fire growing within her.

Her dress was barely hanging on, the straps down around her elbows. His fingers caressed their way up her flanks, just skimming the outer sides of her breasts. His fingers were so tantalizingly close, yet they didn't go further. By now everywhere his fingers touched, she felt the heat radiate through her. The urgency of her need was unlike it had ever been. There was almost a desperate immediacy to it. Diana didn't want to wait any longer. This moment, right now, seemed to be the only one that mattered.

The subtle shift continued and she became the aggressor, moving them towards the bedroom. He followed, never breaking contact with her. His hands and lips didn't leave her for a moment. The maddening caress of his fingertips was almost too much to take. The need felt so urgent.

"Kal!"

Her voice had a breathless, needing quality to it. She managed to step away just long enough to let her dress slip the rest of the way down. Holding his gaze, her hands reached out to undo his belt as she moved onto the bed, gently pulling him with her. He wordlessly followed. When his lips returned to hers, the intensity for both seemed to magnify.

"Now Kal."

They were entwined on top of the bed and this was her signal that she was ready for him. She lifted her hips to help him slip her panties off and then reclined waiting. Again it didn't go as she expected. It seemed his fingertips and lips weren't finished just yet. She almost protested for him to hurry, but then those fingertips skimmed over her chest. His lips followed. This brought a murmur of pleasure from deep in her throat. Her back arched just a bit, pressing herself into his hands and mouth.

Her fingers stroked through his thick black hair. Somehow his touch managed to be both gentle, yet strong. Each caress, each embrace was felt throughout. Yet they seemed on different wavelengths. He seemed content to linger, while urgency continued to build for her. Diana shifted, turning her body into his. Her leg curled around him, pressing him tighter to her. Consummation was tantalizingly close, her sex pressed against his. So close, so close, she thought, yet it wasn't enough. Her hips bucked, almost trying to achieve their union on their own, but it remained maddeningly just beyond reach.

Diana glanced down and saw him looking up at her. He shifted again, but his eyes held her gaze.

"God, you are so incredibly beautiful,' he whispered. She could feel his breath against her skin as he pronounced each word. She saw the smoldering passion in his blue eyes and it just seemed to stoke her own. Diana pulled him up to kiss him. The feel of his body sliding against hers brought a deep moan from her lips just before she claimed his. It was as if she were experiencing a kiss for the first time. She thought she knew how pleasurable kissing could be, but this was different. This was more a reflection of the desire and want now burning inside of her. Passion. This was passionately kissing.

He started moving down her body again. She wanted to stop him, to pull him back to her mouth, but those fingertips, those hands were so distracting. He moved down between her breasts, pausing to pay them the attention they deserved. His fingers toying and tempting her, bringing moans from her lips. When he continued, kissing his way down the flat plains of her stomach, Diana couldn't keep her hips still any longer. They began to grind against him, wanting, seeking him. A shudder when through her, as his lips touched her navel, just as his fingertips skimmed against her center.

"Kal!"

Diana felt the beads of sweat on her flesh, as the heat seemed to be burning its way out from within her. Her thighs parted, giving him more access, wanting him. She struggled with her control, her mind confused and flustered by all the sensations rushing through her. His lips and tongue seemed to mirror what his fingers were doing lower. Her belly danced under his tongue, her hips grinding against his fingertips.

His tongue pressed into her navel, his finger synchronized in the same movement. Diana felt her muscles contract. Always before that would have ended it, as that was the one slip of control she never allowed herself. It was too dangerous. Yet it didn't stop this time. His tongue and fingers continued to emulate one another. If anything, his pace increased. Diana felt her hips respond, bucking and grinding against him. Her arms fluttered uselessly over her head, as she arched her back, pressing her body into him.

"_Forever is composed of nows."_

His words came back to her as the last bit of her control failed. His fingers found the spot, the key that unlocked a torrent of emotions that had been continuously building inside of her. Her body arched upward, as a devastating shockwave went through her. As it rolled over her there was nothing else but now. This moment, these sensations, this pleasure, seemed her entire world. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, as the moment seemed to reverberate to her very core. Her eyes closed. Sounds came from her quivering lips, but she couldn't seem to form them into words. Within the overwhelming sensation there were others, little fragments of awareness that seem to intensify everything.

When her eyes opened again, he was kissing her. The rush of blood through her system made her feel a little giddy. She eagerly returned his kiss, deepening it. Her hands came alive, moving all over his body. She moaned as his lips moved along her jaw line towards her ear.

"No holding back anymore, Diana."

It was the faintest whisper in her ear, yet it reverberated through her like the noonday bell. With a growl of pure passion she rolled them over so she was on top. She paused for just a moment, gazing into his eyes. The sheer unbridled desire in her look caused his breath to skip a beat.

"No holding back."

There was a throaty, sensual sound to her words. The invisible chains she hadn't even realized she'd been wearing had fallen away. What hadn't seemed possible suddenly became possible. It was as if she had been seeing something in 2 dimensions and suddenly the 3rd dimension came into focus. It was a shattering experience to realize she'd been settling for a pale substitute all this time. She had thought of this in the wrong terms, it wasn't surrender, but liberation.

Her lips crushed down on his in a bruising, erotic kiss. He didn't pull back, but returned it with his own desire. Her body seemed incapable of remaining still, as she moved to straddle him. Her hips ground down on him, tantalizing him with the sensual contact. He groaned and this only spurred her on. She wanted him to feel the maddening desire that she was feeling, that he had created. She wanted to take him to the edge and hold him there, letting the hunger overwhelm him like it had her.

"Diana."

He gasped. His hands moved down to capture her hips and center her, but she didn't allow him just yet. She was hanging over the edge holding by her fingernails and she wanted him to know that same feeling. She took his hands in hers and stretched them up over his head. She held them there as she passionately kissed him again and again. He didn't fight this, just squeezed her fingers with his, letting her know the effect she was having on him. His body began to move against hers, seeking, trying to reach the connection, it was so temptingly close, yet out of reach.

"Diana!"

She heard it now, the urgency in his voice. It was an echo of what was going through her mind. She lifted her hips and shifted ever so slightly, but it finally allowed the connection they both were desperate for. The air seemed to rush from her lungs as she settled back down, allowing him deeper inside. She released his hands and he immediately pulled her lips to his. He then reached for her hip and pulled her even closer, filling her completely.

Her hands were on either side of his shoulders, as lifted her upper body up. She could feel the beads of sweat rolling down over her curves and dripping onto him. A smile spread across her lips as she licked them, staring down into his eyes. Her hips began a slow, sensual grind that brought another groan from him. Her curls were disheveled, as they brushed against his chest with each movement.

His hands were touching her again, caressing her, enjoying the feel of her body. She hadn't known that the touch of someone's hands could be so intoxicating. Her hips began to roll, adding to the grinding. This increased the sensations. She wanted more. At first she kept the pace maddeningly slow, just as he had. She held his gaze, relishing the look he gave her. In his eyes she was beautiful and no words had ever made her feel more so.

He leaned up to capture her breasts with his hands and lips. She arched her back as a moan escaped. He seemed to adore each part of her, leaving no inch of her untouched. Diana's awareness of the world seemed to foreshorten. Everything became blurred background except the two of them. She began to move, lifting and falling on him, all the while continuing to grind against his body. He sat up, shifting so she was on his lap. Her hand tilted his chin up as she bent down to kiss him. They were such good kisses she thought.

The pace increased. Each rocking of her body ending with him deep inside of her. She still wanted more. If she had been able to think of anything but what was happening in the moment, she might have been frightened of how much she wanted him. She might have tried to rationalize it away as she had about going to Phuket, but in this moment she didn't need explanations. The need, the desire, the emotions, the feelings were almost enough, but she still wanted more. She wanted more of him. Diana wasn't sure now they had started whether she would ever get enough of him.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Suzette helped Julian to his seat and then took the one next to him. There was a small crowd, perhaps 60 in a sort of makeshift theater in the round. One-way bulletproof glass separated the spectators from the stage. Smoke hung in the air, as muffled, excited voice whispered mixing with the wet noise of ice moving in cocktail glasses.

The betting had started, but would increase once the participants entered the stage. Suzette felt her excitement build. On the way over Julian had explained the unique nature of tonight's entertainment. As she looked at the stage it was just as he described it. A large circular table sat in the middle of the stage. There were no chairs, no other pieces of furniture or stage props. A single unshaded bulb hung down from somewhere above and provided the only illumination. It swung ever so slightly over the table and caused the shadows to shift.

As she took a sip of champagne, Suzette turned her attention to the table. There were numbers, 1 through 6, crudely painted on it. At each number there was a handgun. Six guns, one bullet, but no one knew exactly which gun had the bullet. That was the nature of this game. Closer to the center lying in a straight line was money. Five stacks, 2 thousand dollars each would go to the winners. The loser would be dead.

A small door opened and one by one the participants made their way onto the stage. They were dress exactly alike in dark trousers and white shirts. Each had a white cloth tied around their head with a letter between A and F. This was for betting purposes.

The men moved to take positions around the table. They could hear, but not see the spectators. Their focus though, was on the handguns. Suzette gazed at each of them. She was told they were willing participants, but at this point that mattered little to her. All her focus and interest was on seeing the game play out. As for the men, they ranged in age between mid-forties to the youngest who could only be in his very early twenties. Suzette sipped her champagne as she looked at the youngest one. She had bet on him. He looked frightened and was sweating heavily. It was as if seeing the guns had suddenly made this all too real for him. Suzette thought he might try to bolt at any moment.

Julian leaned in and whispered to her.

"The rules are simple, my sweet. Think of it as a variation of musical chairs. Only it isn't lack of a chair that decides who losses. The song begins and the men slowly circle the table. Round and round they go and just like in roulette, where they stop nobody knows. Once the music stops, they pick up the handgun in front of them. They had added a special twist to the game here that I'm sure you will enjoy. More champagne?"

She nodded and he signaled to the waiter. A bottle was brought and they both took refills.

The men seemed to be getting anxious, as if they were having second thoughts. Perhaps even some of them were thinking of calling it off. Their eyes continually looked from the gun to the money. Each wanted the money, wanted it desperately. 5 chances out of 6 they would get it. It was that **1** chance that made them anxious.

"Laissez le jeu commencer!" The voice called over the speaker and then the music started. The hiss and crackle of an old phonograph could be heard. The sound was a nursery rhyme, Pop Goes the Weasel. The men turned and slowly began to circle the table.

_"Round and round the cobbler's bench_  
><em>The monkey chased the weasel,<em>  
><em>The monkey thought 'twas all in fun<em>  
><em>Pop! Goes the weasel."<em>

The betting grew more intense. Suzette found herself leaning forward closer to the glass for a better view of each man.

_"A penny for a spool of thread_  
><em>A penny for a needle,<em>  
><em>That's the way the money goes,<em>  
><em>Pop! Goes the weasel."<em>

The anticipation was maddening. Suzette felt excited, alive, but she wanted to see the completion. Step by step the men circled the table. She could see they were sweating and nerves were at the breaking point. The voices around her reflecting this, as with each step the men took the spectators knew the end was that much closer.

_"A half a pound of tupenny rice,_  
><em>A half a pound of treacle.<em>  
><em>Mix it up and make it nice,<em>  
><em>Pop!"<em>

The music stopped.

Suzette was holding her breath as the men picked up the guns. Her eyes widened in surprise as the men turned and raised the guns. They each aimed at the back of the man head in front of them. They weren't going to pull the trigger on themselves, but on another human being.

**"ONE."**

Each man cocked the hammer back on his gun.

**"TWO."**

They pressed the barrel into the head of the man in front of them. In turn they felt the man behind them do the same. The silenced was overwhelming.

**"THREE!"**

Click, click, click, click, click, **Bang**.

A gasp went through the crowd. Suzette sat completely still, mesmerized by what she witnessed. She watched as one man fell forward and then tumbled to the ground. Blood poured from the head wound. He was already dead by the time the other men started reaching for the money. A buzz went through the crowd, as people found their voices again. They were nervous, excited, aroused and just a little shocked at what they'd seen.

One of the men that ran the show came over to Suzette.

"Your winning Madame."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

It was very late or very early according to your point of view. Diana rolled over and lay on her back looking up at the ceiling. The look on her face was so open, so expressive. It seemed a combination of shock, joy, surprise, satisfaction, desire and happiness all at once. She was breathing hard as she pulled the sheet up over her. The sweat glistened off her skin, yet she felt so alive. She was giddy.

"You were right, Kal, Kryptonians are hard to break.' She teased.

"You certainly gave it your best shot, Diana." He groaned.

She couldn't stop the laugh, as she moved over to kiss him again. She wasn't sure she would ever get tired of kissing him.


	25. Chapter 25

Goodbye-39

Sarajevo

He silently closed the bathroom door as not to wake her. Flicking the light switch on, he winced against the harsh fluorescent lights. He made his way over to the toilet and lifted the seat. With a sigh, he relieved himself. He flushed, put the seat back down and moved over to wash his hands. As he lathering them with soap, he couldn't help looking at his face in the mirror. His reflection stopped him. He thought he saw fear in his eyes. Had he just made a colossal mistake? In the moment it hadn't felt like it, but now in the harsh bathroom light he wasn't sure.

He hadn't just had sex with Diana; he'd made love to her.

They had said they would worry about tomorrow when it came, but he knew she would want more. She deserved more. He just wasn't sure he could give any more. The truth was he wasn't sure he had any more to give anyone. He could manage to hold it all together for short spurts, but just barely. Yes, the worst was over, but he was nowhere near whole again. Most days it felt as if the world was made of razor blades. Anything could open a wound and he would start bleeding all over again.

He'd tried to tell her this, that he was only a man of moments now. He wasn't sure that was enough. She deserved more. He wished he could say he was being noble, but that wasn't the truth. He was haunted and frightened by so many things, most of all by her. Diana represented all the things he wasn't ready for.

As he looked into his eyes in the mirror, he knew he had to leave. He was holding the entire world at arm's length cause he wasn't strong enough to deal with it. Diana didn't accept that. Just like when they sparred, she kept slipping inside his defenses.

* * *

><p>The sound of the shower running woke Diana. He hand instinctively reached to the other side of the bed, but he wasn't there. She didn't like that. Slowly she half opened her eyes and looked around. It was early, just before dawn. Rolling onto her back, Diana sighed. Last night had been … amazing.<p>

Her hands slowly began to glide over her body as she replayed everything over in her mind. Her fingers mimicked his, trying to duplicate the heat that had burned through her. She felt the arousal slowly start to build. Her breaths came in short gasps. Small moans began to slip from her lips as her own hands stirred the fire within her. It felt so good, but now she knew there was something better. Her head turned to the side and her eyes gazed at the bathroom door. She could imagine him standing in the shower water splashing and flowing down his hard, muscular body. Diana licked her lips at the thought.

Swiveling her hips, Diana planted her feet on the floor. She felt flushed and excited. She knew he was leaving today. At this moment, she found she didn't care. She knew it was uncertain when she would see him again. She didn't care about that either. What she did care about was now. He was just a few feet away. In some primal way she wanted to claim him as her own, to mark him so he and everyone else would know he was hers. Diana blushed in surprise as this thought went through her head. The depth of the emotions as a little unnerving, but she didn't shy away from it.

After last night she knew she wouldn't be satisfied going back to how things were. Once you've tasted how good something can be, it's nearly impossible to settled for less. Was she in love with him? She didn't know. Her emotions seemed to be all over the map concerning him. Lust? Yes, she had to admit, lust was certainly in her thoughts. She wanted to feel his hands against her skin, his body pressed against her and his kisses. Slowly she stood up letting the sheet fall away from her. With each step she took towards the bathroom door, Diana could feel her excitement growing.

She opened the door and felt the hot steam slip over her body. The room was like a sauna, as she stepped inside and silently closed the door. She stood for a moment, just admiring him through the glass of the shower door. The anticipation was a seductive torture, but she lingered in it just a moment longer. As her eyes slowly ran over his body, Diana licked her lips again. She had waited long enough. Moving without a sound she opened the door and stepped in behind him.

* * *

><p>The very hot water came from multiple directions. Clark let the water splash over his face, as he tried to clear his mind of all the doubts. A little gasp came from his lips as he felt her hands slip around his body. She pressed herself against his back, as her hands began to slowly stroke against his front.<p>

"Diana."

It came as almost a hiss from his lips, as her touch sent tremors through his body.

"Do you still want to know what I'm wearing, Kal?" She teasingly whispered in his ear.

"I think I can guess,' he groaned. Her hands moved lower, brushing against his manhood. He could feel her full breasts gently moving back and forth against his shoulder blades.

"Diana."

Her name came out as a groan, as her fingers circled him and began to stroke his growing arousal.

"Don't you like it?' She teased, letting her lips start to kiss his earlobe and then move down his neck.

"Yes!"

He gasped, not able to deny the pleasure her touch was creating. Slowly he managed to turn and face her. His eyes swept over her loveliness, before returning to her eyes. The raw desire and lust he saw in them just seemed to magnify his arousal.

Their lips found each other's in a passionate kiss. Both could feel the urgency of their desires. He moved her backwards towards the shower wall, trailing kisses down her spectacular body. His tongue flicked at her navel, as he moved to his knees in front of her. His hands moved to her hips as he started to kiss lower and lower. Her breathing became more erratic as he seemed to move torturously slow, yet it felt so good. He skipped over the most obvious location and gently lifted one of her thighs and hooked it over his shoulder. Diana leaned back, groaning as his lips licked and kissed their way along her upper thighs.

"Kal!" She moaned, the need growing more urgent as the moments passed. His mouth finally advanced to her womanhood, but avoided the most sensitive spot. One of her hands came down, wrapping her fingers in her hair and pulling him tighter. Diana leaned back against the wall, arching her back and opening her thighs even wider for him.

"Kal! Don't tease me,' she whined in desperation.

"Don't you like it?" He asked, with a devilish smile as he looked up at her.

"Yes!"

It felt wonderful, but she wanted more. Reaching down she pulled him up from his knees and hungrily kissed him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him closer, ravishing his lips with her own. In one swift move he picked her up and pressed her against the wall of the shower. Her long, muscular legs snaked around his waist and pulled him closer. His mouth descended to her chest, drawing little groans and whimpers from her. This maddening build up only last a short while, for they were both too eager to wait. As he entered her, Diana gasped and clung to him. He was so deep it took a moment to adjust. They seemed to linger like this for long minutes, but it was really a matter of seconds. Their eyes locked. Each began to move, slowly at first but as the moments passed more urgency overtook them. They held each other's gaze, wanting to see the other as the emotions swept through both of them.

His hips moved in and out, driving deeper and deeper into her. Her hips grounded back, meeting every thrust. Her back arched so only her shoulders were touching the wall, her body in a constant erotic motion against his. He held her as if she weighted next to nothing, leaning in to kiss and caress her body while never breaking the rhythm.

Pushing herself off the wall, Diana wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She wanted to devour him with her kisses. Her fingers entwined in his hair as each kiss grew more passionate and intense. Her body felt alive as her hips jackknifed against him, welcoming his thrusts deeper inside of her.

"Kal!"

It was her voice that was filled with insistence as they continued. On and on it seemed to go, building towards a climax for both of them. Each wanted to hold on just a little bit longer, to make the moment last just a few more seconds. The sound of their pants, mixed with their kisses and the water splashing over them. She pressed her arms out against the two walls of the shower and leaned back. His lips followed her, overwhelming her senses as he lavished attention on her breasts. Her hips ground and bucked against him faster and faster. The loud wet smack of their bodies coming together over and over, filling her ears.

Words had no use. Groans, whimpers, gasps and screams conveyed all the meaning that was needed. Muscles flexed and spasmed, as they pushed each other higher and higher. She rode him with no thought of holding back. As she looked into his blue eyes, once again that primal thought came back to her. Mine.

Arching her back even more, she pushed herself closer to him. Her lips moved over his and then kissed their way down to his shoulder. She bit him, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark, her mark on him. _MINE_. A satisfied smile came as she moved back to kiss him hard. He moved slightly forwards pressing them against the shower wall. It seemed to increase his leverage and he began to rock his body even harder against her. A moan escaped her lips as her body started to writhe against his. Her hands were all over him, caressing him, urging him on, just wanting more.

Both knew this couldn't last much longer. The desperate need was overwhelming them. As each felt the final rush, their eyes locked. They watched the array of emotions sweep over the other and this only added to their own climax. Time seemed to stop as the world fell away. The dizzying madness of the moment overtook them. His gasps came out in a staccato rhythm, while her joyous scream seemed to echo forever in the small chamber.

_"Forever is composed of nows."_

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda Waller stood behind the one-way glass listening to Agent Frasier's debriefing. She was closer to 60 than 40 now and officially was just an adviser. Her face remained placid as she listened to Frasier relate how Tom Tresser attacked and killed one agent and wounded Frasier, before stealing all the files on the Council. Frasier went on to implicate Tresser in the Senator's son's murder. Whether he did it himself or in league with Kent, Frasier wasn't sure. He finished his testimony by reiterating how dangerous he thought Tresser was. The supervisors thanked him and he left to go back to Tokyo.

Amanda turned away from the debriefing room and slowly headed back to her unofficial office. The whole situation troubled her. She knew Tresser or more accurately, had worked with Nemesis. She knew of his obsession with the Council, but found it hard to believe he would cross the line like Frasier had said. The whole business with the Senator's son was disturbing and just added to her sense of unease.

As she reached the end of the hallway, she took out her key and opened the door. She was just sitting down and firing up her computer when he spoke.

"So do you believe Frasier?"

She was surprised, but managed to control herself and not scream. Her eyes quickly moved over the room and found him in the shadows. Batman.

"How did you get in here?"

"That isn't important," he replied. "Do you believe Frasier?"

"No."

"Good, cause he's lying,' Batman replied.

"How do you even know what he said?" She asked.

"Again, not important."

"All right, how do you know he's lying?"

"I know Tresser and so do you. Does any of it sound like him?"

"No." She had to admit.

"I've also met the other man, Kent,' he informed her. "A friend did a little investigating on site. The murders were staged. All three were drugged. If Kent beat them to death there would have been a lot more blood. Check with your contacts over there about the illegal fights that are staged. Kent was rather well known for his tremendous punch."

"I will,' she replied. "That doesn't prove he wasn't involved."

"I've seen him fight,' Batman stated. "If he beat them to death he would have done a lot more damage. Broken bones at the very least."

"So if Tresser and Kent are innocent, who did this?" She asked.

"Who benefits?"

The ping of e-mail arriving caused her to turn her head towards her computer. When she looked back to ask another question, he was already gone. She sat back and sighed. After a moment she reached for her phone and pressed several buttons. There was a pause before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

"This is Waller,' she said. "Connect me to Trang in Thailand. I have some questions."

* * *

><p>Copenhagen<p>

Night had descended on the King's Garden at the Rosenborg Castle. Nemesis moved quietly among the shadows. All his instincts were on alert. A man had reached out to him through channels saying he had information that would be useful about Frasier. Tom had already heard about Sloan's death and knew he had a target on his back. Frasier had screwed him very well. Things were falling apart all around Tom. He'd lost Kent and now he was a hunted man himself. This might be a trap, but he needed to find out for sure.

He saw the man standing under one of the streetlights. Slowly the man pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the signal that all was clear. They must think this is my first time, Tom thought. Only a fool would walk into the open on the word of another. For the last hour he'd been scouting the park looking for the best angles for an ambush. He hadn't seen anyone, but his instincts said they were somewhere out there just waiting. He pulled out his phone and dialed the waiting man's number.

"Yes?"

"I'm running late," Tom said. "Give me another half hour and I'll be there."

"This is unacceptable,' the informant replied. "I don't have all night to wait!"

"I understand. We can just make it another night."

Tom hung up before the man could reply. Slowly he moved forward, always staying in the shadows. His head was on a swivel, alert for any movement. He made it within twenty feet of the man and waited. The informant seemed upset and started dialing someone. He spoke quickly, informing the person on the other end that Tom wasn't going to show. He listened for a moment and then nodded. The informant hung up and started to leave the park.

Tom waited a few moments and then made his move. Putting on a burst of speed he launched himself from behind the informant and tackled the man into the bushes. His hand was over the man's mouth before he could scream. He dug his gun into the man's ribs and rolled him over.

"One sound and you're a dead man. Understood?"

The man nodded, his eyes wide with shock. Tom slowly took his hand away from the man's mouth.

"What? What are you doing here?" The informant asked.

"You had some information, remember?"

The informant seemed flustered for a moment and then nodded his head quickly.

"Yes, of course, you just surprised me is all. Let me just get to my feet,' the informant said. Tom was about to stop him, but the man had already pulled something from his pocket that made a quick flash.

"What the hell?" Tom shouted and then dove to the side. Bullets chewed up the ground inches from him. His gun was out in the next moment returning fire. The informant was trying to scramble away, but Tom wasn't going to allow that to happen. Grabbing the man by the collar, he used him as a shield pulling him back into more cover. He tossed the man to the ground and then took aim.

"You set me up? Did you really think I'd fall for this?" Nemesis shouted at the man. Another bullet hit the tree Tom was using as cover. He turned and fired back. His gun was empty. He quickly ejected the clip and popped a new one in. The informant saw this and took a chance on pulling his own gun. Nemesis stomped on the man's arm hard enough to make him drop the gun with a groan. Nemesis leaned down and put the barrel of his gun against the man's knee.

"Tell me how many are out there?"

"Go to hell!"

Tom pulled the trigger. The informant screamed in pain as the bullet destroyed his knee. Tom moved his gun to the man's other knee.

"A limp or a wheelchair, your choice."

"Two! Two shooters! Just two!" The informant gasped, the pain unbearable.

"Good, so you do have some brains. Now tell me about Frasier?"

"You're a dead man, Tresser!" The informant snarled. "The Agency knows all about you killing Sloan! You signed your own death warrant!"

"Maybe, but if I was the killer you think I am, I wouldn't have stopped at your knee. Frasier killed Sloan and pinned it on me. He's probably working for the Council!"

"Everyone knows about your obsession with the Council, Tresser! You're paranoia is finally catching up to you!"

Another bullet hit within inches of Tresser. He looked down at the spot and then at the informant.

"Just because you believe people are trying to kill you don't mean you're paranoid. The man I was following, Kent, where is he?"

"I don't know."

"So it's going to be a wheelchair? All right with me too."

"Wait! I don't know exactly, but France! That's where the girl and old man were heading!" The informant shouted. Nemesis smiled and then struck the man, knocking him out. He checked for the shooters, but still couldn't see where they were. Silently he slipped deeper into the trees and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

It was early evening. Clark sat across from the Opera house having some dinner and a drink. His cell phone sat on the table next to him. The café was crowded, but he had a perfect view of the Opera house. He could see just about every entrance and so far there had been nothing. He hoped that was a good sign and that he'd been wrong about tonight. While Diana enjoyed the show he could slip away. Not exactly heroic, but then he wasn't a hero anymore. He winced as he moved his shoulder. His hand absently went to the spot where the bruise had formed. He'd been a little distracted at the time, but later realized she'd bit him. When he asked why, Diana hadn't answered, but he did notice a small smile on her lips.

Definitely time to leave, he knew. After last night and this morning the temptation to stay was too strong. The longer he was around her the harder it would be to leave. He took a sip of his beer, but instead of tasting it he could still taste her. It frightened him how much he wanted her. The only that frightened him more was the thought of actually staying. He knew he couldn't. Yes a few glorious moments, but he didn't want her there the next time he fell apart. Suddenly the food lost its taste at the thought of it.

Don't dwell on it, he told himself. Just do your part tonight and then go. He knew she really didn't need him to handle the situation, but he hoped he could make it just a bit easier. He was just about to order another beer when he saw her car pull up. Security and press were in frenzy as the crowd pushed forward to catch a glimpse of the world famous Princess Diana, Wonder Woman.

Absently he nodded when the waiter asked if he'd like another, but his eyes were riveted on her car. He watched the limo stop in front of the Opera house and then smiled, as the back right door was opened. As she stepped out of the car a gasp when through the crowd and then was followed by what seemed like a million flashbulbs going off at once. He could just see her rise up to full height and then smile at the crowd. She was born to this, he thought. Clark couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she made her way up the red carpet and into the Opera house.

Once she disappeared inside, he sat back with a sigh. That was the last he was going to see her. He felt a mixture of sadness and relief. He knew he was going to miss out on something amazing, but he just wasn't ready for it. He had always tried not to lie to himself even in the worst of it. He knew if he stayed he'd mess it up. That was even worse than letting it slip away. At least this way he had the consolation of thinking about what might have been, instead of knowing how he'd ruined it. Besides he thought, she was better off without him weighting her down.

Clark sat there as one by one the limousines arrived and dignitaries entered the Opera house. He kept scanning the crowd looking for the two assassins, but didn't see them. Finally the last limo pulled away and the police cordoned off the area. A sense of relief came over him as he realized this wasn't the place. He finished his drink, paid the tab and started towards the railway station. He sent her a quick text saying he didn't see them and it looked like everything was clear. He received no reply, so he guessed the security scrambling the area must have started.

As he walked down the side street, his mind still filled with thoughts of Diana, Clark happened to glance at the back service entrance. Some of the performers were still entering, including a group of acrobats. Something about them caught his eye and he slowed down. They were speaking Russian. Two members of the troupe seemed to draw his attention. They were dressed as the others were, but something felt off about them. They were assembling what looked like a series of rods and tubes into what looked like flags. It took a moment, but Clark was pretty sure those were weapons.

As one of them turned and lifted his harlequin mask, Clark gasped. It was the two assassins. He just stood there stunned as he watched them stroll by the security and into the Opera house. It was happening here and now! Frantically, Clark pulled out his phone and sent another text to Diana identifying them. He waited and waited, finally a message came back that the number couldn't be reached. The dampening field, he suddenly remembered. Damn it, he couldn't give her any warning! Then his last text came back to him. If she got it, Diana wouldn't know it was coming. He'd even screwed this up.

Clark looked around for a security guard to tell, but then remembered he was a wanted fugitive. He saw a couple of them eye him suspiciously and began to move. He started heading for the train station again, telling himself that Diana could easily handle it. That's what she does, she's Wonder Woman after all. He almost convinced himself of this, but kept remembering he'd text her all was clear. As amazing as she was, that critic information might delay her just a moment. Someone could die in that moment and he'd be responsible. No, Clark thought as he stopped and turned. He couldn't be responsible for another death.

He stood there on the sidewalk trying to think of what to do. He wasn't a hero. What could he do? He had no powers or training, he was just a man. He'd probably just make the situation worse if he tried. Let Diana handle it, he kept telling himself. Clark kept looking back at the Opera house. He wanted to walk away, but his feet didn't seem to receive the command from his brain. Just walk away, he repeated to himself, just walk away.

"Damn it!'

Slowly Clark started walking back towards the Opera house. If he stopped to think it through, he knew he would realize how insane this was, but he didn't stop. The idea formed in his head that if he could get inside, he might be able to give Diana a heads up and she could take it from there. He tried to text her again, but got the same no service message. Clark groaned as he kept walking towards the Opera house. He saw the security all around the place and knew it was hopeless. Still he couldn't turn away. Slowly he began to move around the place looking for some sort of weak spot. Where's Bruce when you need him, he thought?

* * *

><p>Inside, Diana was shaking hands as she moved towards her seat. When she got a moment, she pulled out her phone to see if there was any message from him. Nothing she unhappily saw, not even a good bye. She smiled and shook hands with the other diplomats as she took her seat. While her mind was on him, she still instinctively scanned the hall. Her eyes moved over everyone, looking for anything out of place. She checked angles and sightlines trying to calculate where a sniper would mostly likely be. She did this effortlessly even as she chatted with those seated near her.<p>

The lights dimmed and the master of ceremonies came out on stage to start the show. The crowd grew quiet. Diana checked her phone one more time, but still nothing. She hadn't really expected a good bye, but still it bothered her. She didn't want him to go, but knew he had other plans. A small smile crept across her lips as she remembered last night and this morning. It got a little bigger as she remembered biting him. It was so unlike her, but she felt a strange sense of satisfaction as she thought about him leaving, but with a reminder of her going with him. He didn't know it yet, but she's already decided they would see each other again.

* * *

><p>Outside Clark stood in the shadows across the street from a possible blind spot in the security. He watched as the guard patrolled back and forth, before moving out of sightlines of the spot. Cursing himself for being an idiot, Clark made his move. He started running as fast as he could. There was a dumpster next to the high fence that surrrounded the Opera house. In his mind he saw himself using the dumpster as a launching spot to clear the fence. The plan seemed like the best at the moment. One foot found an edge and up he went. His second foot slipped and he started to tumble forward. The top of the fence hit him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him. The world seemed to spin out of control for a moment and then he was falling. He landed hard on his back and just groaned as pain shoot through his system.<p>

"How does Bruce make it seem so easy?"

Wincing he slowly pulled himself to his feet and started moving again. He could feel where the top of the fence had ripped his shirt and dug into his stomach. He reached down and groaned as he saw blood, but kept moving. Willing himself, he jumped up to catch the bottom of the fire escape and started to climb. He hoped his black suit would shield him even a little till he got to the half opened window near the top floor. He could hear the security guard coming back. Clark stopped and clung tightly to the building. Seconds seemed to drag out forever. Every moment he expected to be caught and arrested. Finally the guard moved out of sight again and Clark started climbing.

Frantic moments later, he reached the window. It was just at the edge of his reach. He looked down and regretted it, as the hard asphalt seemed very far away. Stretching as far as he could, he got his fingers on the windowsill. Taking a deep breath he launched himself off the fire escape and made a grab from the window. He nearly missed, but managed to get both his hands on the sill. He hung precariously for a moment, his legs madly trying to push off the side of the building and propel him through the window. His shoes slid uselessly against the bricks and finally he just pulled with all his strength and plunged through the window.

He landed hard again, feeling his face smack against the linoleum. It was a bathroom and as he rose from the floor with a thud, he saw an older man just staring at him in shock. Rising with a groan, Clark tried to smile at the man.

"I hate to wait in line,' he offered. The man just continued to stare at him. Clark did a quick check in the mirror and saw a little blood on his lip. He turned on the faucet and washed his face and hands quickly. He gestured towards the paper towels and the older man wordlessly handed him several. Clark dried his face and hands and did his best to pull himself together. He saw the blood on his shirt and buttoned up his jacket. Finally ready as he was ever going to be he started for the door.

"So how's the show?" He asked the stunned older man.

"Fine."

"At these prices it better be, right?"

Clark gave him a smile and then left the restroom. He gave a sigh of relief as he stepped into the hallway. He didn't know the layout of the building, so he wasn't sure which way to go. The lobby seemed like the best bet, but it was sure to be swarming with security. Perhaps there was an opening in the balcony where he could spot Diana, Clark reasoned. He started walking towards the front of the building. He saw a ticket stub lying on the floor and picked it up, slipping it into his pocket. He could hear music, Duke Ellington's Black and Tan Fantasy. As he got closer to the main entrance a security guard walked by him. Clark smiled, but didn't stop.

Applause started as he got the entrance to the balcony. Two guards were stationed there. It was taking a big chance, but he needed to see where Diana was. Clark pulled the ticket stub from his pocket and put a confused look on his face, as he walked towards the guards.

"Can we help you sir?" One of the guards asked.

"It's so dark down there I couldn't see where my seat was,' Clark replied. "I just thought I'd try and spot it from up here and then head back down if that's okay?"

The two guards looked at each other for a moment.

"All right, but make it quick."

"Thanks."

Clark smiled and then moved to the railing. The applause was just finishing and the acrobats were taking the stage. Clark quickly glanced over the audience and it didn't take long to spot Diana. She tended to stand out in any crowd. He tried to find a spot where he could get her attention, but she was close to the front of the audience. He would practically have to be on stage for her to see him.

The audience was laughing as the acrobats went into their routine. They were jumping all around, climbing up the sides of the stage and also moving out in the audience. Clark looked for the two and saw one of them moving towards one of the first boxes on the ground floor. He was carrying what looked like flags with him, but there was something odd about the shape.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to take your seat,' the security guard said to Clark.

"What? Oh, right, of course, thanks again."

Falling back on old habits, Clark did his best to look like just another lost audience member. He walked back towards the hallway, started one way and then turned and went the other. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled in embarrassment at the guards before moving away. Once he was out of their sight, he started towards the front balcony boxes. Maybe he could just slip in and signal to Diana and then let her take it from there.

* * *

><p>Diana wasn't really interested in the acrobats. They were moving in time to the music, Flight of the Bumblebee and she found it rather distracting. She checked her phone again out of habit, but knew there wouldn't be any messages. Her thoughts turned back to last night and this morning. A thrill went through her as she remembered them together. It had been so different, so amazing she definitely wanted more. Even as these thoughts went through her mind, she was still on alert for any possible assassination attempt. Her mind had been working over the problem of who would be the target of such a plan had come up with a few possibilities. She had already located them in the crowd and planned out the quickest way to defend them if there was an attack. She took no one for granted and kept her eyes trained for anything out of the ordinary.<p>

The acrobats weren't helping, as they climbed over the seats, doing handstands and making general mischief that seemed to entertain the audience. Several were near her and they were blocking her view. This bothered her and she felt more alert. It almost seemed they were doing it intentionally to distract her. Diana sat up a little straighter in her seat and was ready for anything now.

* * *

><p>As Clark made his way down the hallway towards the front, he got a shock as he rounded a bend and found the security guard he'd passed early lying unconscious on the ground. He knelt down to see if the man was all right and then noticed the blood coming from his chest. He was dead. Clark glanced down the hallway and at the very far end, he saw the other assassin. The man seemed to be assembling something from the parts of the flag he'd been carrying. It was a rifle, Clark instantly realized. The man looked up and saw Clark. They held each other's eyes for a moment as recognition came to both of them. The man started to raise his rifle, but just as he did, one of the doors to the balcony boxes opened.<p>

An older woman stepped out and stopped as she saw Clark and the dead security man.

"It's not what you think!" He started to say, but she gasped and then screamed. The moment seemed to freeze. Clark was just about to go to her and try and calm her down, when a bullet hit him in the shoulder. It knocked him off his feet. The older woman went into hysterics now, screaming, "Murderer!"

* * *

><p>Even over the orchestra's playing of Flight of the Bumblebee, everyone heard the scream. Diana turned towards it and saw security rushing away from the stage towards the balcony. She was tempted to go herself, but remembered Kal had said there were two assassins. This might be a diversion from the real target. She stood with the rest of the crowd but her eyes weren't looking at the balcony, she was looking for a sniper.<p>

* * *

><p>Clark could hear the security rushing towards him. Another bullet barely missed him by inches. He was in pain, but knew he had to get up. As he managed to make it to his knees the assassin fired again. This bullet hit the door the older woman was standing by and just missed her. Clark lunged towards her and pushed her back into her box. He could hear the security shouting at him to not move, but he wasn't listening to them. He started to move down the hall towards the assassin. The man was about to fire again, but saw the security. He moved quickly and stepped into the last balcony box.<p>

This is insane, Clark thought, as he started running. The security behind him shouted again and then fired warning shots. This only made him run faster. His shoulder and stomach were throbbing, but he kept moving. He felt a bullet hit him in the calf and nearly felt to the ground. He managed to stay on his feet, but now the security had opened fire on him. Thankfully the curve of the hallway gave him some cover, but not enough. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but when he reached the last box he just broke it open.

The assassin was hiding in the shadows, holding his gun on the audience members in the box. When he saw Clark come crashing through the door, he started to turn the rifle towards him. Clark had no time to think so he just barreled into the man, pushing the gun towards the ceiling. The impact sent them both backwards towards the edge of the box. The assassin fired a shot, but he went into the roof as they tumbled over the edge.

"Oh, shit!" Clark shouted as they started falling towards the main floor.

* * *

><p>Diana instantly turned as she heard the shot. She was out of her seat moving to block it when she stopped in the aisle and gasped.<p>

"Kal!"

She watched as he and another man tumbled over the edge of the balcony box and fell towards the stage. She started to rush towards him, but out of the corner of her eye saw the other assassin. He pulled the trigger, but his bullet never found its mark. Diana was in front of him, blocking the shot.

* * *

><p>Clark ripped the rifle from the assassin's hands and tossed it away as they fell. He desperately reached for anything that could save him from dying. His hands caught part of the stage curtains and he hung on with all his strength. The assassin clutched at him, trying to pull him down with him, but Clark hung on. The curtains ripped and he found himself swinging towards the stage, even as he heard the sickening thud of the assassin hitting the floor. Clark arched towards the stage and then the curtain finally gave way under his weight. He went plunging down and landed hard on the stage in front of an astonished audience.<p>

* * *

><p>All hell broke out now. The orchestra finally stopped playing and the audience was flooding into the aisles to escape. Diana had dealt with the other assassin and tossed his unconscious body over with the other one. Security was rushing towards her. She looked up at the stage and in the chaos saw him. He was struggling to stand. Before she could move towards him grateful audience members and security were surrounding her. She knew her duty, but desperately want to go to him. She could only watch helplessly as he limbed towards the back and then disappeared in the crowd of performers that were now filling the stage.<p> 


	26. Chapter 26

Vulnerable

_"Love is not love until love's vulnerable."_

-Theodore Roethke-

Sarajevo

The panic spread from the theater as word got out. Performers, workers and the audience members were all running one way, while the media and police were running the other. Diana found herself surrounded by police and security, while reporters clamored for a quote or a picture. The last thing she wanted to do was stand there, but she had to. She was Wonder Woman and that meant she had a duty that came first. As she turned and watched the last of the performers rushing down the back stairs, she knew he was gone and out of her life again.

Suddenly his quote finally made sense to her. "Forever is composed of nows." That's what he'd given her, perhaps all he could give, his now. He hadn't promised forever or made declarations about their love, but now, the moments they were together. The two of them were the only thing that matter in those moments. The rest of the world, their individual problems, their worries and fears were never spoken of. They didn't exist, only the two of them did in those moments.

Diana suddenly realized what a rare thing that was. The rich and the famous as well as others had courted her before. Some had tried lavishing her with gifts. Others tried to impress her with words or showy displays of their devotion, but none had given her what he had. He gave himself to her completely for whatever short time they had. He was hers and all the gifts and words were nothing compared to that.

Relationships had ended before, they always do. Diana had felt the sting of regret and touch of sadness when things fell apart. She'd fought hard to save all of them, but in the end knew when to give in to the inevitable. Some things were never meant to be more than what they were. You take your bruises and you move on, trying to remain hopefully that the next time will be better.

This time she wasn't going to move on, cause she knew in her heart it wouldn't be better. For all his flaws and he had a considerable amount, Diana couldn't let go of Kal. They weren't soul mates or any of those fairytale dreams she knew, but they were right for each other. She knew this in her heart, because he touched it like no one else had. He gave her now. As she turned to due her duty, she resolved to herself that wouldn't be the last, they would share more of them.

* * *

><p>Outside Clark did his best move with the flow of the crowd. Police and security were all around. Sirens were deafening, yet he kept moving. His leg was bleeding, but his shoulder was the main concern. The bullet had passed through his calf without hitting any bone, but the one in his shoulder was still in there. With each step he could feel his blood pumping from his wounds. He kept his coat buttoned, but could feel the fresh wet blood soaking his shirt.<p>

He had to get away. He was a fugitive. If he were recognized they wouldn't wait to ask questions. He would be shot on sight. He caught the wild excitement in the policemen's eyes as they rushed towards the Opera house. For most of them this was the biggest moment of their careers. Their hearts were pumping with adrenaline and every nerve was coiled like a spring. It wouldn't take much; just one mistake and he would become the target.

Sweat poured down his face and body. His breathing was ragged, yet he pushed himself forward. His greatest fear was he would go into shock at any moment. He'd never been shot before, at least not like this. He suddenly understood how everyone else felt. He was completely vulnerable. It just made getting away all the more necessary.

As he finally rounded the corner away from the madness, his leg gave out under him for a moment. He stumbled and nearly fell. Passersby asked if he was okay. He nodded and righted himself. He felt every eye on him now. Did they know? Were they going to shout for the police at any moment? How bad did he look? Could they see the blood? Questions upon questions came to his mind and he had to will himself not to panic. He absently ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to make sure it was in place as not to draw more attention.

With his bad arm, he gingerly held his coat together, yet with each step agony raced through his system. He wasn't going to get much further like this. He spotted a cab and moved as best he could over to it. He climbed in and gave an address near his hotel. The cab driver eyed him for a moment, but then turned on the meter and pulled out. Clark tried taking deep, calming breaths, but he didn't look back.

As they made their way through the city street, Clark tried to focus on the radio. It wasn't in a language he was too fluent in, so he only got bits and pieces. They were talking about the Opera house and the assassination attempt. He didn't follow all of it, but towards the end, he did pick out two words, Wonder Woman. He was able to understand the radio announcer was saying that Wonder Woman had foiled the assassination attempted and had the situation under control. Clark smiled as he lay his head back.

"Damn right she does,' he whispered. "That's my girl."

* * *

><p>The Opera House<p>

Forty five minutes later Diana had been over the story a dozen times with various officials from both police and national security. One of the assassins was dead from the fall, while the other was in custody. She accepted congratulations from everyone and was just about to leave, when one of the junior officials asked her a question.

"The man in the balcony with the assassin, do you have any idea who he was?"

Diana turned and smiled at the man.

"A hero."

The reporter seemed a little awestruck when Diana turned her entire attention to him. He managed to smile and just nod. Her smile got a little brighter as she moved away towards the front door. Silently she thanked Aphrodite for moments like this. As she stepped outside, all the media mobbed her. Cameras and flashbulbs seemed to be pointed at her from every angle. Her staff was there ready to open a path for her, but Diana stopped and answered questions. She was polite and told the basic story several times before thanking the local authorities for all their help. As if by some silent signal, her staff went into action and moments later, Diana was safely in her limo and heading back to the hotel.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Suzette came walking out from her bedroom putting on her earrings. Julian was sitting in front of the television and she saw a smile on his face. This was strange, as he never seemed to care for television most times.

"What's happened?' She asked.

He turned and looked at her, the smile still on his face.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you."

"There was an assassination attempt in Sarajevo,' Julian informed her. "It failed, thanks to Wonder Woman and some mysterious man according to the news reporters."

"That's what she does, isn't it?" Suzette asked, as she came around to stand next to Julian.

"Quite so, very good at it I hear,' he replied. "She was there for a conference though, not as Wonder Woman. It seems the mysterious man is the one that started everything. He even tackled one of the assassins from out of the upstairs box and nearly died plunging to the stage."

"A hero?'

"Yes' Julian said with a nod. "There isn't much of a description of him, but tell me who this reminds you of? Tall, dark hair, handsome and well built the reports from the audience members say."

"Kal?"

"Exactly,' Julian replied. "It seems our missing friend has been a hero even while he is on the run. I knew he was going to be an interesting man."

Julian chuckled at this, but Suzette didn't seem to find anything about it funny.

"Why?" She finally asked. "Why would he do something like that? It's incredibly stupid."

Julian raised his hands.

"Who knows? Perhaps a reflex from his former life,' he offered. "Like a retired fireman rushing into a burning building he sees on his way home from the store. It does complicate things though. If I'm correct those assassins work for our friends in Russia. They will not be pleased with this result. It seems we have one more side that will be interested in us."

"That's assuming Kal comes back,' Suzette replied.

"Oh, he will,' Julian said with certainty. "Where else does he have to do? He's still a fugitive remember? He will come back to us, because we are what he knows now. When he does, he will be very valuable to both of us, Suzette. His little foray has just added to his value."

"I certainly hope you are right,' Suzette said, as she leaned down and kissed Julian on the cheek. "I'm off for a dinner engagement."

"The young politician?" Julian asked.

"Yes,' she smiled. "He wishes to show me his city he said."

"Enjoy, my dear."

"I will."

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

Clark finally managed to get back to the small hotel room he'd rented. The cab had dropped him off blocks away, but that was just in case later anyone asked. He wasn't sure he was going to make the last block, as his leg was numb and his shoulder was in misery. He'd barely made it up the stairs and into his room, before the leg gave out on him. Slumped there, he didn't think he had the strength to get back up. Slowly he inched his way towards the bathroom, dragging his arm and leg. He managed to make it and pull himself up on the side of the tub. Searching through the cabinet drawers he found a small first aid kit. It was little more than gauze and band-aids but it would have to do. There was a full -length mirror on the back of the door so he eased his pant leg up to see the damage.

There was a nasty looking wound through his calf and blood was still flowing. Reach over with his good arm, he ran some hot water on a cloth. It was awkward with one arm, but he managed to clean the wound and wrap it up with the gauze. It was sloppy but at least it slowed the blood. Now came the difficult part, his shoulder. Biting back a scream, Clark pulled off his coat. He sat there gasping for air when it was finally done. Glancing at the mirror he saw how bad it was. One whole side of the front of his shirt was soaked with blood. Sweat was pouring off him and he felt dizzy, but somehow he held on long enough to get the sticking shirt off him.

It the leg wound looked nasty, the shoulder wound was ten times worse. Just touching it sent a wave of pain shooting through him. He nearly fell off the side of the tub as blackness came rushing on. Pulling himself together again, Clark slowly wiped the blood off his chest, but more kept coming. He couldn't hold back the scream as he pressed a thick roll of gauze against the entry wound. He held it there, gritting his teeth so the pain wouldn't overwhelm him.

He felt so weak and was afraid he would pass out at any moment. Pulling himself up he staggered back into the main room and dropped down on the bed. Just that small movement left him exhausted. The pain continued and as he lay there and he knew he had to do something. If he didn't he would die right here. As hard as it was for him to admit, he needed help. He hated asking anyone. In his present situation, a hospital or doctor were out of the question. He would be arrested on the spot.

He knew whom he was going to have to call. There was only one person he trusted that could be here in time to help him.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo – Diana's hotel<p>

She had changed out of her formal wear and was relaxing in some jeans and a blouse when the call came into her cell.

"Hello?'

"Diana.'

She heard the weakness in his voice and was on her feet in the next moment.

"Kal? What's wrong?"

"Shot. Bad. I-I need you, Diana. Please?"

"Where are you? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"No, can't do that, remember?"

"The Tower,' she suggested. "I could have that transport you up there."

"Same problem,' he weakly replied. "It can only be you, Diana, please. No one else can know about this."

Diana groaned in frustration, but those thoughts were overridden by her concern for him.

"All right, just tell me where you are and I'll be there."

He mumbled out the address of his hotel and then ended the call with 'thank you."

Diana was a whirl of motion. She called in her two assistants and informed them she was leaving for an emergence. They knew her well enough that this wasn't the first time. As she grabbed her coat and headed for the door she left detailed instructions should anyone ask where she was. She was unreachable until further notice. Before they could even ask, she was gone.

* * *

><p>Clark's Hotel – Fifteen minutes later<p>

There was a knock on the door, but he was too weak to stand.

"Come in,' he was just barely able to say.

The door flew open and Diana came rushing in. She closed it behind her as her coat was off in the next moment. She was at his side already looking at the wounds.

"This is bad, Kal, the bullet is still in there,' she said. "It is going to have to come out."

"I know, just do it."

"Me? Kal, I'm not a surgeon! I never did anything like this before!"

"Didn't they teach you first aid on the island?"

"Well, yes, but I wasn't the best student,' she admitted. "I learned the basics, but I'm a Princess, Kal! No one expected me to do this sort of thing!"

"You're all I have, Diana.'

She looked into his eyes and could see that really wasn't much time. Damn it, she thought, I'm not going to lose you now!

"All right, Kal, but this is going to hurt,' she finally said. He just nodded, but didn't move. In a flurry of activity, Diana got all the first aid supplies she could find and a rather sharp knife from her purse she always carried with her. She sterilized the blade as best she could and then moved back to the bed. His breathing was shallow, but steady. His skin, even with the dark tan looked pallid and covered with sweat. Reaching up she pulled one of the ornaments from the bed and put it to his lips.

"Bite on this,' she instructed. "It's going to hurt."

He opened his lips and accepted it without a word.

Taking a deep breath, Diana tried to calm herself. She had never done anything like this before and was nervous. She looked at him one more time and then leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"Don't you die on me, Kal, or I'll follow you to Tartarus if I have to,' she whispered in his ear. Leaning back, Diana brushed her hair behind her ears and then removed the makeshift bandage from the shoulder. He winced, but didn't say anything. Taking another calming deep breath, Diana slowly moved the knife towards the bullet wound.

Clark bite into the wood as hard as he could when the knife touched his shoulder. It was too much and he screamed, while his teeth clamped down the wood for all it was worth.

* * *

><p>Later<p>

There were voices above him, in the distance, but not far away. Singing? Was he dreaming, Clark wondered? Slowly he realized it was the radio. Shapes started to come into focus, lit by the spill of the table lamp. He was still in his room in the hotel, on the bed. Blanket covered him. Movement caught the corner of his eye and Diana appeared from the bathroom. Her sleeves were rolled up and there was blood on her blouse. She looked worn out, but still beautiful to his eyes. She carried a washcloth over and put it on his head. When she saw his eyes were open she smiled.

"Welcome back."

"How long?'

His throat felt dry. The question was just the first thing that came into his head.

"Two days,' she replied. "The fever broke a little while ago."

"You stayed? The whole time?'

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

He started to get up, but she quickly stopped him.

"You're still very weak, Kal and need to rest,' she informed.

"Doctor's orders?' He managed to joke.

"Yes,' she replied. "Plus you don't have any clothes on, so unless you want to give me a free show, stay put."

"Yes, ma'am."

Diana smiled even wider at this. He found he was having trouble looking away from her eyes. His fingers slowly came up and touched her blouse ever so lightly.

"I ruined your blouse."

"It's a small price to pay."

"Thank you, again."

"Your welcome again,' she said. "Now rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

Diana was about to say more, but his eyes were already closed. She stood watching him as his breaths came slow and easy. He was asleep. She moved over and pulled the covers up just a bit higher and tucked him in. Glancing down she saw the blood on her blouse. She hadn't even noticed it until he mentioned it. Figures, she thought, here I'm terrified he's going to die on me, and he wakes up and is worried about my blouse!

Such an infuriating man she thought.

* * *

><p>Paris - Restaurant Le Meurice<p>

The 5 star rating was well earned, for the gorgeous restaurant, whose décor was an extension of the hotel's Louis XV ambience of luxury and style. Suzette sat across from the high-ranking French politician and smiled. She could get used to this sort of life, she thought. In some ways this was almost too easy. Skills she'd honed all her life made it effortless to pretend she was interested in this man.

While he wined and dined her, she would act as if his jokes were the funniest, his conversation the most fascinating and his looks the most handsome. Strange, she thought how easily the skills of a prostitute translate just about everywhere. Everywhere they deal with men, that is. Perhaps all women learn this, she wondered, as he went on about his job and the important position he had. Men wanted to feel like they are interesting and desired, just like women.

The quickest way to a man's heart or wallet was to feint interested in him Suzette knew. It kept clients coming back and apparently suitors as well. He wasn't a bad looking man, just not handsome she thought. Ordinary like so many men she had met in her life. They seemed desperate for her to be interested in whatever they were involved in. A few well-placed questions by her made them believe what they wanted to believe. Their egos could be so fragile, so easy to shatter if she wanted to. Why did they all want to talk about nothing that really mattered, she wondered?

Kal hadn't. He barely spoke when they were together. They didn't need words. They knew why they were there and that was enough. Without saying it, they both knew it was what it was. Why pretend it wasn't, she wondered?

It was why she had enjoyed the Russian roulette show so much. Words weren't needed. She had tuned out all the nervous chatter of the others and focused on the men playing the game. One of them would die before her eyes in an instant. Luck, fate, randomness it didn't matter what you called it. There was no larger meaning to it than what was right before your eyes. Life and death reduced down to its essentials. A buzz went through her at just the memory.

Her date was still talking. She casually said, 'really? That was you?'

She could see his smile get brighter and his chest puff out just a bit more. In her mind she could picture him in that small Russian roulette room. He would be one of the ones that cried and broke before it happened. He would soil himself and beg to quit yet the music would continue. Click, click, click, click, click, BANG!

She could almost seem him slump over in the chair across from her and then tumble to the ground. All his talk would be worthless. His phone ringing brought her out of this. He chatted for a moment, motioning silently to her that he was sorry. He managed to try and give her the impression that he was so important they couldn't do with out him. He excused himself and went off to talk some more.

Suzette ordered another drink and sat back with a smile. Yes, she could get used to this.

She didn't see him until he sat down right across from her. She knew immediately who he was.

"That seat is taken,' she calmly said.

"He'll be awhile, Suzette,' Nemesis replied. "Living quite well for a fugitive, aren't you?"

"Jealous?"

Tom gave her a cold smile.

"Don't get cute, Suzette, I've got a gun pointed at you right now."

"Should I be afraid? Should I scream? Is that what you want?" Suzette indifferently asked him.

"I could kill you and there is nothing you or anyone else could do to stop me,' he informed her.

"So?"

"Where's Kent?"

Her smile surprised him. Everything about her threw Tom off. She wasn't reacting the way she should, the way most did.

"I'm not going to ask again,' he warned.

"Oh, yes, you'll shoot me, I'm almost forgot,' she replied. "Don't you watch the news, Mr. um, what is your name again?"

"Nemesis, you can just call me Nemesis, Suzette."

"Of course."

"What do you mean about the news?" He asked.

"There is all sorts of talk about an incident in Sarajevo,' she calmly explained. "That's where he is."

"What is he doing there?"

"Nothing I'm interested in,' she replied. The waiter brought her drink over and set it down. Suzette flashed him a small smile. Lessons learned always served her well. "Thank you."

The man smiled and bowed just a bit before moving away. Suzette took a sip of her drink and then turned her attention back to Nemesis.

"Was there something else?" She asked.

"Aren't you the cool one,' he said with a smile. "Julian has taught you well, hasn't he? A whore though, dressed up, but still a whore."

"So your threat to shoot me didn't work, so now you'll try to insult me,' she replied.

"One phone call and this place will be swarming with police, honey,' Tom said.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, really?'

"You're a fugitive too, Mr. Nemesis," she explained. "I would imagine they would want you just a bit more than me at this point."

"I could still kill you,' he offered.

"So we're back to that, are we?" Suzette took another sip of her drink and sadly shook her head. "That approach is all wrong, Mr. Nemesis. You're not going to shoot me."

"Why not?'

"Cause you want something,' she calmly replied. "You want something from me to be exact. Kal."

"Kal." The name felt like bile in Tom's throat. He was another one that wasn't playing by the rules. As soon as Tom found him that was going to change once and for all.

"Yes, you want him, but you've given me nothing in return,' Suzette said. "You came here for information, didn't you? Information isn't free or cheap, Mr. Nemesis."

"You think this is all a game," Tom demanded, barely able not to raise his voice.

"Isn't it?"

"You're a sick whore, Suzette."

"Yes, yes, more insults, but that's not going to get you what you want,' she replied. "You found me, so you must know where we are staying. Here's the number, have something more to offer next time we talk."

Tom snatched the number from her hand in frustration.

"This isn't over, Suzette."

"Yes it is,' she said to him. "My date is just about to return. He's in the government, high up. Not as high as he likes to make out, but high enough. Your time's up, Mr. Nemesis, bye-bye."

Tom was tempted to shoot her, just to wipe that smug look off her face, but he saw her date returning as well. Grumbled unhappily he got up and headed off. Suzette's date returned and apologized for being called away. He said he hoped she hadn't been too bored while he was gone. She took another sip of her drink and smiled at him.

"I did miss you,' she said. He smiled at this, just as he was supposed to.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

Another long 9 hours had passed. Diana cleaned herself up while he was sleeping. As she washed off the tools she had used she couldn't help shaking her head in wonder. She had never done anything like that in her life and it had frightened her more than she wanted to admit. There were several long minutes while getting the bullet out that she thought she'd lost him. Those were the worst moments.

She thought she understood what it was like to loose someone, but having him hanging between life and death right there in front of her had driven the point home how little she really understood it. Even after all this time and watching so many die around her, there was something different about this. She had seen her sisters fall in battle and while she grieved for them it wasn't the agony she had experienced when she thought she couldn't save him.

The pain and heartache was personal, so very personal. The closer the person was to you the more it hurt. Not all deaths are the same, she realized. She might grieve for all that were lost, but they weren't as intense and personal as losing one very close to you. Diana felt she understood him a little better now too. What agony it must be to lose a wife and child. If it was anything like what she'd just been through, she didn't know how anyone stood it. To just move on from something like that seemed impossible. She realized just how lucky she'd been in her life.

He as alive, though, and that was what mattered. She had saved him. He put his trust in her and her alone and she'd saved him. Diana felt like she was going to burst with happiness at this thought. Yes, it made no sense, she knew. She had saved countless people and worlds even, yet none had been so satisfying as this. She had saved him with her own two hands.

Smiling she moved back into the main room to check his wounds. She was frankly astonished at how fast they were healing. Perhaps Kryptonians are just as hard to kill, as they are to break, she thought.

"So what's the prognosis, doc?'

She looked up from his leg to see him gazing at her.

"You're going to be all right, Kal.'

Diana couldn't help smiling as the words left her lips.

"Thanks to you."


	27. Chapter 27

The View through Clear Glass

Paris – Late

Julian sat on the apartment's small terrace looking out over the city. It was very late, yet traffic still moved along the wide avenues. He was alone, enjoying a Cuban cigar and a snifter of cognac. The weakness in his body was still there. He realized he'd probably had a mild heart attack in Copenhagen, but he'd survived just like always. Just this fact seemed to make the cigar taste better and give the cognac a little extra bite. Life was good. He was finally home. It had been fifty odd years since Julian had spent more than a night in the land of his birth. He'd left here a young man, believing he understood how the world worked. It was foolish, but then so many young people were foolish. So much had changed in the intervening years. Many miles and cruel, hard lessons had educated him about a different reality. What that hard fought knowledge had taught him could be boiled down to one simple phrase.

The world was not fair.

It never had been and never would be.

He'd listened earlier as Suzette told him about her meeting with Nemesis. A smile came to Julian's lips as he thought about the young man. Nemesis played the hard-bitten, world-weary spy, yet by his words Julian could tell he was a believer. He believed in justice and fair play. He probably believed the truth would set him free, Julian mused, such a foolish notion. Truth, justice, fair play, these were just words and the meanings changed with each person that used them. Those in power used them in conjunction with other words, like hope, faith, patriotism, liberty and belief. The words were just commodities that could be used to manipulate men like Nemesis, as well as the masses.

People were sheep.

They'd suffer any indignity if you promise them some glorious future. That future conveniently never arrived, but they still desperately clung to a hope and belief in it. They wanted to believe all the senseless suffering and pain had a payoff at the end. When those are stripped away the real truth is shown. Julian had witnessed it on five continents. The faces and names might change, but the real truth never did. That promised and dreamed of a payoff never arrived. Virtues, Vices, they were just more words to control the masses.

The world was not fair. Once you understand this, all the falsehoods fall away. People aren't unique. People aren't special. They die every second of every day and the world marches happily on without them. To worry what happened afterwards is pointless because it's unknowable. Perhaps you will go to some great reward, but you won't know until you get there or not. In a way it liberates you. Life is all that matters. Right now, this life is all you have and ever will. All the meaning you'll ever need is right here in front of you. You just have to be willing to look for it.

Julian had been thinking of possibilities all night. Long-term plans were starting to form but he couldn't overlook the short term either. Before the fall of Saigon he had cut his teeth on the delicate art of playing the various sides and factions against one another. He had no loyalty to any of them, but he was always useful so they came back to him time and time again. Now they would come to him again. Life, death, power and money were at his fingertips. He was once again a player in the larger game, all because of a man called Horse.

Yes, life wasn't fair and that was just the way Julian liked it.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

The fever had returned. Clark's body was expending enormous amounts of energy fighting off any infection and healing. The rate of his healing was rather astonishing to Diana. It seemed that while he was unconscious, something on a much more basic level, perhaps on the cellular level had taken over. Sometimes it was so hard to remember he wasn't human. Even without his powers he was still Kryptonian.

Diana did what she could; constantly changing the wet clothes to try and help bring down his fever, but knew it was beyond her abilities at this point. She wanted to transport him anywhere really, the Tower or back home to Themyscira being the most obvious choices. She'd made him a promise though and she wasn't one to go back on her word. This left her in the unenviable position that many had found themselves in before her. She had to sit and watch. Like most of those before her she prayed to her Gods, held his hand, talked to him and did really anything she could think of that would help him pull through.

At first she spoke about him recovering. She said the same basic things as many different ways as she could. _You__'__re__ going __to__ be __all__ right, __Kal. __You __can __beat__ this.__ You__'__re __not__ alone.__ You__'__re__ strong; __you __just __have __to __want __it_. She found she could only say them so often before they became hollow to her ears. Slowly she started just talking, whatever came to her mind, hoping her voice was reaching him and it would be a link back to consciousness for him.

Like most of us, Diana eventually started to talk about herself. It first it was just to keep talking. She told him about the meetings she was missing and the people she actually didn't mind not dealing with at those meetings. She talked about her staff and what her plans were for the future at the Embassy. She eventually turned to the League and filled him in on all the things happening there. She related the latest gossip, something she always pretended she didn't pay attention to but actually did.

As the hours slipped by she ran out of things to say about everyone else in her life and began to tell him about herself. Stories from when she was growing up. They were happy times for her. Many of the stories brought back memories she hadn't thought of in years. Once she started, Diana found herself telling him the story of her life.

It was something new for her. Most people tell the story of their life so many times even they get tired of the stories. Dates, meeting new friends or coworkers, we all tell some version of the story of our life on a regular basis. It's usually a condensed version but if you really listen to the stories people tell you, they are giving you clues to who they think they are. Diana had never really done this before. She was Wonder Woman so everyone assumed they knew her. Even her friends in the League that had known her for years probably didn't know much about her life before she arrived from the island.

As she told of the fun times growing up, one story seemed to stop her. It had started so innocently like the others just playing with other young girls, but somehow a fight had broken out. As kids are bounded to do, it mostly involved a lot of screaming and just wrestling around on the ground with no one really getting hurt. What stopped Diana was the memory of the palace guards stepping in to stop it. She could still remember the other girls' faces as the guard chastised them for wrestling with her. It was in that moment Diana first realized she was different. She wasn't just another girl on the island she was the Princess. Things were never the same between her and the others after that day.

As she continued talking, it was as if Diana were talking to herself, instead of Kal. That one realization seemed to cast so many things into a new light. Other memories seemed to take on new meaning when she looked at them again. She realized that maybe those feelings of being different were also part of her desire to win the role of Champion and come out to the wider world. It was what made those first days of the League so heady for her. Finally she was among people where she wasn't different or at least not the only one that was different.

Then Kal died.

Things changed again. Suddenly she was thrown into that role of being different, the leader again. Maybe that was when the newness of this world started to fade for her. As the years went by she just accepted that was the way things would always be. Diana suddenly wondered if the restlessness she'd been feeling in the last year wasn't some how tied to those feelings of always being different. She was Princess Diana or Wonder Woman all the time now. Even in her personal relationships she always had the sense that the men never quite saw her as just Diana.

Maybe ultimately that was the reason she went to Phuket that night to seduce Kal. As irritating and infuriating as he was, Kal never treated her different than anyone else. She was always just Diana to him. Some times she wished he would treat her differently back in the early days, especially with his teasing her, but after he was gone no one else ever did. Diana suddenly realized she had tears in her eyes. As she wiped them away, she couldn't believe the emotions that had been stirred up.

"All this, because of a memory of a harmless fight with some other girls,' she quietly mused. As she looked at the tears on her fingertips, she shook her head in wonder. She felt fingers touch her leg and when she looked up his eyes were open. He smiled at her.

"I'm not in the best shape, but if you want to wrestle I'm willing, Princess."

Diana was so incredibly relieved and happy that he was finally awake. She also knew he was teasing her so she slapped him.

"Ow! Jeez, Diana, no wonder no one wants to wrestle with you. You play too rough."

Diana couldn't help laughing just a little at this. She took the bait and teased him back.

"I don't recall you complaining much in my hotel room, Kal. I seem to recall you saying the phrase, _oh,__oh,__Diana_, several times."

"You were being nice then,' he replied. "Except for the biting, of course."

"I don't remember you complaining about that either, Kal," she pointed out.

"That's cause you were distracting me at the time,' he offered. She gave him a look.

"Well the bruise is all healed now, Kal. Unless I decided to bite you again."

"I've been wounded, Diana, you wouldn't take advantage of a man in my condition would you?"

He did look weakened by the fever and the bullet wounds, but she saw the playful look in his eyes. Slowly Diana moved onto the bed and crawled over top of him, being careful about his wounds. She stopped so she was right above him, her face inches from his. A rather seductive smile came to her lips.

"You know, I think I just might take advantage of your condition, Kal,' she whispered, moving her lips just millimeters from his. "Are you saying you wouldn't like that?"

"Are you asking me?"

"No, just informing you,' she replied. "Now shut up or I won't kiss you."

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

Bruce slowly made his way down the hospital hallway. His mind was on other things so he almost didn't see Helena heading straight for him. He managed to step aside just in time. She seemed surprised to see him, well, anyone.

"Helena?'

"Sorry, I guess I was lost in thought,' she offered.

"How's Vic doing?'

"He's-He's holding in there," she replied. Bruce could see the tears in her eyes and knew they weren't the first or the last. Instinctively he wanted to offer some comforting words.

"He's a fighter, Helena."

"He can't fight this Bruce, we both know that,' she stated. "He's dying."

There was really nothing for him to say.

"It's strange,' Helena said. "I feel so helpless, but there isn't another place I want to be. I probably seem like a ghoul hanging around waiting like this.'

"No,' Bruce said with a shake of his head. "He was hoping you'd come. It helps, I know that doesn't sound like much, but it is."

"I would have to have fallen in love with a complete nut all those years ago,' she said, trying to smile.

"Unfortunately, it happens to all of us,' he replied.

"But now he's dying so it's too late,' Helena sadly said.

"Have you at least told him?" Bruce asked.

"He's-He's got enough… enough on his mind already,' she replied.

"Tell him, Helena, for both of you. And do it soon."

The two stood silently in the hallway. They had never been the closest, but in a strange way they were part of a family. It was at times like this, that odd family they were part of matter most.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Suzette came out into the living room to find two dead bodies on the floor. They were Russians and from the looks of it, they had both been shot in the head. She didn't scream or go into hysterics, but looked around the room for anyone else.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I was hoping to have that cleaned up before you got up,' Julian said as he came back into the room. Two rather rough looking men followed him. They were carrying plastic and discussing something when they saw Suzette. They stopped and looked at her.

"Who are they?' Suzette asked, gesturing to the dead men on the floor.

"Russians,' Julian replied. "Unfortunately, it seems our friends in Moscow didn't take too kindly to what happened in Sarajevo. They sent these two for revenge."

"And those two?' She gestured towards the men standing behind Julian.

"Friends of friends. Otto, Henri, this is Suzette.'

The two men said hello and Suzette returned it with a smile. Julian came over and sat down. He looked tired, but he was smiling. Suzette turned her attention back to Julian.

"You killed them?' She asked.

"Me? Heaven's no, I'm just an weak old man after all. Otto and Henri were kind enough to help. The deaths, well they were unavoidable,' Julian offered. "Our Russian friends were very upset when I told them Kal wasn't here. They apparently thought they would use me as a surrogate for him. Of course I had to defend myself. Otto and Henri proved very capable of handling the situation. Well done, by the way, gentlemen."

Julian looked at the bodies on the floor for a moment.

"It's a shame really,' he said. "What's the world coming to when mobsters attack a weak old man?

Suzette stepped over the bodies and moved towards the kitchen. She glanced at Otto and Henri and then back at Julian.

"I assume they are going to take them away?"

"Yes, that's what the plastic is for,' Julian replied.

"Is there any coffee?" She asked.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

Diana had slipped out to get some other clothes from a nearby store. She's been wearing the same things for several days now and couldn't tolerate it any longer. A nice longer shower later, she felt clean again. Wrapping a towel around her and using another one to dry her hair, Diana heard the door close in the other room. As she came back into the main room, she saw Clark had ordered some food. He was moving slowly, but seemed to be recovering nicely. He set a large pizza box down on the nightstand along with another bag. A six-pack of beer was along side it. He pulled one out and opened it. Diana stood in the doorway giving him a look as he raised the beer bottle to his lips. He of course saw this and stopped.

"Had to wash the pizza down with something,' he offered. "I need my strength, Diana. I was wounded, remember?'

Diana rolled her eyes and moved into the main room. She continued drying her hair but looked at him skeptically.

"You're going to milk that for all it is worth, aren't you, Kal?' She asked.

"Well it is the first time I've been shot,' he admitted. "I could have died."

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"You say that the next time you get shot. Besides, aren't you hungry?"

"Yes,' she replied.

"Well there's pizza and I even ordered you water, just like you like."

"Thank you.'

Diana draped the towel over her shoulder and moved over to the bag. She reached in and pulled out the water. It was bottled water, but in a plastic bottle.

"Plastic,' she muttered, making a face. "Do you have a glass?'

"Um, I think there are some wrapped up in the bathroom," he replied. Clark opened the pizza box and took out a slice. He sat down on the bed and started eating. Diana watched him eat with his hands for a moment, and then gave a look of disgust before heading into the bathroom. After a quick search she found two glasses wrapped in paper. Unfortunately when she unwrapped them she discovered they were actually plastic glasses. Diana dropped them back in the drawer.

"They're plastic, Kal!"

"Well, the beer's in a bottle,' he replied. "Have one of those."

"Maybe I could call down the front desk and have them send up a glass,' Diana said as she walked back out and over to the phone.

"This isn't that kind of hotel, Diana." He informed her. "Just be glad they change the sheets every couple of days."

Having ventured through the lobby a little while earlier, Diana knew what he meant. The greasy man behind the front desk had practically drooled over her as she walked by him.

"Perhaps I'll just have some of the pizza,' she replied. She walked over and lifted up the lid and had to admit it did look good. It was still hot and steaming. She glanced around but didn't see any plates or for that matter silverware.

"Where are the plates and utensils, Kal?"

"The what?" He said between bites.

"The plates and silverware."

"Um, ah, it's pizza, Diana."

"Yes, I can see that, Kal, where are the plates and silverware?"

As he caught a stray string of cheese and was just lifting it to his mouth when he felt her eyes on him.

"Um, maybe in the bag?" He offered.

Diana opened the bag and looked at its contents. Paper plates and those plastic knives and forks that come sealed in more plastic. She picked them up with just the tip of her fingers and showed them to him.

"Paper plates and plastic utensils, Kal."

"I guess they ran out of bone china and stainless steel cutlery," he joked.

"You're not funny." She watched him eat for a moment and then pulled out some napkins from the bag and held them out to him. "Could you at least use one of these?"

"I guess,' he said, taking the napkins from her. "They are paper though."

"Don't make fun of me, Kal, I know exactly where you're injured,' Diana fired back at him.

"Yes, ma'am." He could see she was a little unhappy about the situation. "Look, why don't you put on one of my shirts so you won't have to worry about spilling anything on your new clothes? I know it's not how you like it, but maybe we could pretend it's a picnic?'

Diana was hungry. She would have preferred to sit at a table with proper plates and cutlery, but that didn't seem like an option. Reluctantly she realized she was going to have to use the paper plates if she wanted to eat. She drew the line at the plastic knife and fork, though. She moved over and took out one of his clean shirts and then went back into the bathroom and slipped out of the towel. Putting on the shirt she looked at herself in the mirror. She was by no means a small woman, but the shirt looked huge on her. She rolled up the sleeves several times so they were at her elbows. The bottom of the shirt came down to mid-thigh. It was better than nothing she decided.

Barefoot, Diana walked back into the main room. Clark was holding out a paper plate for her. He opened the pizza box so she could select a slice. Diana picked up a piece and quickly placed it on the paper plate. Strings of hot cheese connected the slice to the rest of the pizza. She used one finger to sever them and deposit them on the plate. Diana quickly picked up a napkin and wiped her hands. She tentatively sat down next to him on the bed.

"Water?" He asked, holding out one of the plastic bottles.

"No. I guess I could have one of the beers,' she replied. He set his pizza down and opened a bottle for her. He picked up his bottle and held it up to her.

"Stini Yamas,' Diana offered as a toast as they touched bottles.

"Les Paul,' Clark replied. They both took a drink. The beer was cold and tasted good. Her hands were full now, the beer in one and the paper plate with the pizza in the other. Reaching across him, she set the beer on the nightstand. Sitting back, Diana looked at the slice of pizza. It was hot and gooey and would most likely make a mess. She tried to figure out the best way to minimize this, looking at the problem from every angle.

"Are you sure you don't want the plastic knife and fork?" He asked as he watching her try and negotiate the slice of pizza.

"Yes, I'm very sure." Diana firmly replied. It seems the best way was to just dive in. He certainly didn't seem to worry about making a mess she noted. Raising the plate as close to her chin as she could, Diana picked up the slice and took a bite. It tasted very good. As she chewed, she accepted the handful of napkins he offered her. Diana immediately wiped her chin and face and then pointed towards the beer bottle. He gave it to her. She took another drink and then handed it back.

"That's really good,' she finally offered when she finished chewing. "I'd still prefer a knife and fork, but it is good."

A smile came to Clark's face, but he wisely decided not to tease her about this. Instead he picked up another slice and dug in.

* * *

><p>Tokyo<p>

The building was on one of the main small side streets that make up the Ginza. The constantly flow of human traffic made it the ideal place for a meeting. Agent Frasier had doubled back twice looking for a tail, before finally arriving at a plain door. He punched in a code and then quickly entered. Max was waiting for him.

"You weren't followed?" Max asked.

"Give me some credit, I've done this before, Max,' Frasier dismissively replied. "I wasn't followed."

"Good, they are waiting for you. Come this way."

Max turned and they started down the hallway. There were no windows or doors, just a lone uncovered light bulb hanging from the ceiling. At the end of the hallway, was a door with another punch code entry system. Max hit the keys and they continued on. Two more doors of similar design followed and finally they stepped into a larger room. Arranged in a semicircle behind a long rounded table were five men. They were in shadows. This was the Council. Frasier knew the drill and stepped into the center of the room.

"Gentlemen,' he said.

"It's good to see you again, Frasier,' the main in the middle of the five replied. "You've been busy since we last saw you."

"Yes, I told you I could handle it and I did."

"Nemesis?"

"Disgraced and wanted,' Frasier replied. "He's wanted for the murder of Agent Sloan and his attack on me. It was his gun that killed Sloan, by the way. I also implicated him in the death of the Senator's son. He's got a target on his back so he won't be bother you gentlemen for some time."

"Very good, very good,' the man in the center replied. "You brought all the files the Agency had on us with you?"

"Yes." Frasier indicated the briefcase in his left hand. "Everything the Agency knows about you are in here, just as we agreed."

"You have indeed fulfilled your side of the bargain, Agent Frasier."

"Yes, I have,' he said. "Now I believe there is just the matter of the rest of my compensation and we'll be finished."

Max pulled a gun and stepped up behind Frasier. Two shots to the head later, Frasier lay crumpled on the floor, dead.

"Yes, we are finished, Agent Frasier,' the man said. "Your murder will be linked to Nemesis too. Hopefully his own side will take care of him permanently."

"There is the matter of Grinka, the woman and the fighter,' Max said. "They are still out there and dangerous. I've sent a team after them."

"That was a mistake,' the man on the end of the panel said. The others turned to him. "Grinka will know it's coming."

"He's just an old man with a whore,' Max replied.

"Yes, but he became an old man because he's smart, Max. You're underestimating him and the girl, which is another mistake. I've seen the fighter; Horse is his name fight as well. He's a powerful man. Grinka should be talked to. Negotiate with him, make him relax, then kill them all."

"I'll see that it's done,' Max replied. He bowed and then exited the room. Once he was gone, the man at the center turned to the man on the end.

"Do you really think he will succeed in killing Julian?"

"No,' the man on the end replied. "We all know how clever Julian is. It will send him a message though."

"Another failure for Max?"

"His replacement is already in the works. Another loose end tied up. With Frasier out of the way, there will be no connection back to us."

"And Nemesis?"

"Wait until Max fails, then call Julian. He was always good at that sort of thing."

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

The pizza was finished and the two of them were lying across the the bed drinking the last two beers. Clark couldn't help but notice how sexy she looked in just his shirt. Diana noticed him noticing.

"You're injured, Kal, remember?"

"I'm not that injured."

She smiled, but there was something on her mind.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"When?'

"I don't know, a day or so,' he replied. "I'm feeling better thanks to you, but I want to give it another day just to be sure."

"Where are you going?" She asked. When he hesitated, she frowned. "I'm already involved Kal, don't even think of trying to protect me.'

"Paris, probably,' he replied.

"And then?"

"I don't know,' he admitted. "I'll probably try and find Julian and Suzette."

"You should stay away from them." Diana said to him. "I don't know them, but I don't trust them."

"I'm not sure I do either,' he replied. "I'm caught in something, a world I know nothing about, Diana. They do. For the time being, I probably need their help, at least until all this is cleared up."

"My offer to get you to Themyscira still stands."

"It is tempting,' he playfully said. "All those beautiful women, a guy could really have a good time there."

She slapped him.

"Ow!"

"You're a fugitive and injured, Kal," she chastised him. "Think with this head, not that one."

Diana tapped on his forehead and then gestured downward. He looked at her for a moment, and then slowly moved a little closer. He reached over and ran his fingers lightly along her cheek.

"How about if I only think of one beautiful woman?"

"I thought you were injured?' She said as he moved down to kiss her.

"I'm not that injured, Diana." He replied and then kissed her. "Just don't be so rough this time, please?"

"Already complaining,' she teased as she kissed him back. "What am I going to do with you, Kal?"

"I have a few ideas."


	28. Chapter 28

wishing doesn't make it so

Sarajevo

Diana was in the shower. Clark sat on the side of the bed. Two days had passed. In the little world they created in this cheap hotel room, everything seemed okay. It wasn't though. This was an escape, a beautiful, wonderful, amazing escape, but the truth was, there was no escape. Problems needed to be dealt with. They wouldn't just go away. When he was with her everything else seemed to get pushed to the background. He felt whole again. He could almost forget everything else just looking at her. The way her eyes shifted downward for only a fraction of a second when she spoke of something personal. The way she casually pushed a few curls behind her ear when she was feeling flirty. And the way she bit her lower lip to stop herself from asking what was next for them.

The easy thing would be to pretend. Offer her vague guarantees about the future. Make promises he wanted and wished to keep. Yet he would know they would ultimately be lies and so would she. The alternative was the truth, but that basically offered her nothing. He wanted to give her more than that, because she deserved it. Holding her at arms length hadn't worked, but holding her in his arms made it so hard to let go.

He wanted many things, her most of all. It frightened him at first how much he wanted her. At first he was afraid that by wanting her he was somehow betraying Lois and what they had together. It probably made no sense to most, but when he'd taken those vows he'd meant them. Love and Honor, Till Death Do Us Part weren't just words of a ceremony to him, they were a sacred promise he'd made to the woman he loved. Discovering he had feelings for Diana felt like he was cheapening that promise. He was in no shape then to deal with it, so he kept pushing her away.

He realized now how lucky he was that she hadn't let him. It would have been so easy for her to walk away. He'd certainly given her every reason to. Why she hadn't, he still wasn't complete sure. It was just another reason she was so special. He'd had sex with Suzette, but that somehow didn't seem like a betrayal. It was a physical act, an expression of desire and need. Neither of them asked or wanted more than that.

With Diana it was sex but so much more. He felt guilty, as if he was forgetting Lois. It was here in this cheap hotel room he let himself finally understand the whole truth. He would never forget Lois and what they had. She was such a huge part of his life. The hardest for him to admit was the second part of that vow, till death do us part.

Life wasn't fair.

Lois was dead, murdered in front of his eyes. He'd been haunted by that day every since. It felt like such a cruel irony that he kept on living. He'd been punishing himself and everyone that tried to get close for more than a year now. In fact the closer they got, the more he seemed to go out of his way to hurt them. That had to stop if he was ever going to move on. A few months ago the very idea of moving on seemed futile to Clark. His wife and child, his whole world was gone, there was nothing left.

He was just drifting through life day to day like a spectator, just watching the show play out in front of his eyes. There were moments; brief moments of life in Suzette's bed and in the ring but those were fleeting. It was so frightening to even think about caring for anything again. Even the thought of having it all taken away again was too much. Anything seemed better than that. He wasn't worried about death or what came afterwards, he'd already experienced heaven and hell right here on Earth.

So he ran away as far and as fast as he could to the ends of the world, but life kept following him. In a way what scared him the most was five feet away in the shower. Diana. When he was with her he could almost see glimpses of a future. That just fueled his fear. How do you explain being afraid of loving someone? Because every experience has taught you that when you do, you lose them.

Perhaps the other truckers in Afghanistan had it right all along. The nickname fit. He was the Pale Horse and death always followed with him.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Tom was on the run. Sweat poured off him and his lungs were burning, but he kept running. The news of Frasier's death had reached him through the grapevine and he knew he was the prime suspect. Hell, he wished he had killed him. The problem with it was that it made the Agency double their efforts to either capture him or neutralize him. As another bullet bit into the asphalt next to him, he knew the preferred option was to neutralize him.

He knew he was in deep shit. All his carefully laid plans had turned to ashes overnight. His own people wanted him dead. He knew the Council had people in Paris as well, so he assumed they were here to kill him too. Kent was gone and he only had the whore's word that he was in Sarajevo. Tom cursed at no one in particular about how unfair it all was. This wasn't the way things were supposed to turn out. He was one of the good guys, damn it! He was fighting for justice, no matter what it took to get it. He'd crossed so many lines, made so many compromises but it had been with justice as the goal. If you were going to clean up a sewer, you had to get your hands dirty.

The bullets were coming closer now. Tom knew he was running out of options. He could stop and try and shoot it out, but that was suicide. He doubted they would just let him surrender. He kept running but knew they were gaining on him. It was unfair and if he got out of this somebody was going to pay.

Movement in front of him sent his instincts on overload. A car had stopped and the passenger side door opened. A wisp of smoke slowly billowed out and then he saw her, Suzette.

"If you'd like to live, get in."

There wasn't any time to ponder it, as the bullets whizzed by his head. Tom dove into the front seat and Suzette gunned the engine and tore off down the road. Tom scrambled up and glanced back through the rear window. He could see three men come into view and then stop as the car put more and more distance between them. He was safe, for now. Tom turned to look at his unlikely benefactor. Suzette had a satisfied smile on her face.

"Why?" he finally asked.

"Maybe I like the irony,' she offered. 'Nemesis indebted to a common whore, how does it feel?"

"You're still just a whore to me, Suzette,' he snapped.

"Such gratitude. Aren't you always the charmer, Mr. Nemesis,' she replied. "It must just grate on you that you're alive because of a whore, doesn't it?"

"Yes." He reluctantly admitted. "Now why don't you tell me the real reason you're helping me?'

"In a minute,' Suzette said. "You still haven't said the two magic words, Mr. Nemesis"

Tom gritted his teeth, hating that he was in her debt. The satisfied smile on her lips only made it worse. She was enjoying this, watching him squirm. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction, but as they glided down one street and turned on another he knew she wasn't going to say anything else until he gave in. One minute stretched into five and they remained silent. She seemed to have all the time in the world. Finally Tom swallowed his pride and said what she wanted to hear.

"Thank you."

Suzette beamed at this.

"Now that wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" she asked. "Yes, I supposed it was, wasn't it?"

"You're still just a whore."

Suzette suddenly pulled the car over and parked. She turned towards Tom and leaned back against the door. His words had no effect on her. For them to have an effect, she would have had to care what he thought. She didn't. Suzette felt about Tom the same way she felt about this car she was driving. Once it served its purpose, she would walk away and never give it another thought. If he really thought he could hurt her with just words, he was even more of an imbecile that she had first imagined. Slowly she raised her slender hand and pointed to a building down the street. Tom's eyes followed.

"It's a building in Paris, so?"

"The Council has sent a hit squad to Paris, did you know this, Mr. Nemesis?" She asked.

"Yes, of course I did,' he snapped.

"Good for you,' she replied. "Did you also know that very same hit squad is currently in that building right over there. The one I'm pointing to if you're not following."

Tom felt his heart race at this piece of information. If what she was saying was true, he could take the offensive for once, but could he trust her?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You're not the only ones they are after, Mr. Nemesis."

"Why should I believe a word you say, Suzette?'

"Don't," she flatly replied. "It doesn't make the slightest difference to me what you believe. I'm simply passing on some information, what you do with it is up to you. Oh, if it matters, your man in Hong Kong, the informer, Kano? The men that killed him are the ones in that building."

Suzette reached into her purse and pulled out another cigarette. She lit it and blow smoke in Tom's face. Bitch, he thought, but if she was telling the truth the men that killed Kano were in there. He'd promised him before he died he would make them pay. Tom knew he was going in that building. He glanced dismissively at Suzette and then climbed out of the car. A quick check of his gun and then he disappeared into the shadows.

Suzette sat in the car leisurely smoking. She had mixed the truth with a few lies in what she told Nemesis. The men in the building were from the Council, but they were here to kill her and Julian, not Tom. Oh they would kill him if they had the chance, but that wasn't their primary mission. The part about the informant, Kano had been a complete lie, but only a small one. Suzette was reasonably sure the men in that building had killed quite a few people, maybe even Kano.

She waited until she heard shots starting. She dropped the rest of her cigarette out the window and pulled away. There was a smile on Suzette's lips.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

Diana turned off the water and stood silently in the shower. The last two days had been better than she could have imagined. She certainly didn't need a lasso to know the truth. She had fallen in love with him. It was really that simple. Part of her never wanted to leave this room. In here they were just Kal and Diana. The two of them were all that mattered. With all her heart she wished it could always remain like that, but wishing doesn't make it so.

He was leaving.

It was the unspoken fact that was always there. Diana didn't want him to go, but she would. She wasn't the sort of woman to whine or pout when she didn't get her way. She wasn't going to make him feel guilty about leaving, either. If anything, the last few days had shown her Kal was still a work in progress. He wasn't whole yet. She had spent hours memorizing his every feature while he was unconscious. She felt like she knew his face better than any other. She could almost tell what emotions he was struggling with, just from his expression. She was absolutely sure when he was pretending to be okay for her benefit. He was trying to be strong for her, but she could see how fragile he really was.

He was still dealing with his past. He was haunted by it still. Diana understood that Lois had been a huge part in his life. She would never ask him to forget her or what they had. Diana also understood these last few days hadn't been about Kal's past, it had been about now and them. She sensed he was struggling with it, the fact that he was moving on, yet not wanting to betray what used to be. She'd had a little taste of what it must be like to lose someone you love when he was unconscious. It was such a terrible, helpless feeling. It must be so hard to accept and let go. It would take time and she would gladly give that to him.

Now though, it was time to say goodbye.

Diana stepped out of the shower and dried herself off. She slipped into her clothes, took a deep breath and then walked back into the main room. He stood up when he saw her. She saw his bag was packed and sitting by the door. They looked into each other's eyes and there were so many words each wanted to say.

"You're leaving."

"Yes."

"All right."

She had accepted it, but she couldn't pretend to be happy about it. He seemed to falter and then stepped over to her. He started to speak, but Diana put her finger to his lips.

"Don't make any promises, Kal."

He looked at her and understood. His eyes dropped for a moment, but then he looked back into hers.

"I'd like to make one, Diana,' he whispered. "It's the only thing I'm completely sure of. This, you and I, it is not over."

He pulled her to him and kissed her, pouring all the emotions and words he couldn't express into the kiss. She returned it, letting it express everything she was feeling. Each wanted to linger in that moment, but eventually they both took a step back. She stood there waiting for him to say it, but with one last look, he turned, picked up his bag and walked out the door.

Diana stood looking at the closed door and felt a tear rolled down her cheek. Slowly a smile came to her lips as she realized he hadn't said goodbye. Goodbye meant it was over and he'd promised it wasn't. That was a promise she was going to hold him to.

* * *

><p>Russia<p>

News of the failed hit on Julian and Suzette on top of the failed assassination had the Russian mob in quite a state. Reports from Paris were confusing. Some said French gangsters had taken out their men, while others said it was Yakuza and still others said it was the Council. There were also whispers that the Americans were behind it.

Sasha Polchenko didn't care who was responsible. Someone was going to pay. At this point, the head of the Moscow syndicate didn't really care who it was anymore. He had learned his craft in the KGB before the fall of the Soviet Union. Lebanon had taught him a valuable lesson. When a terrorist group kidnapped a member of the Soviet delegation and held him for ransom, the next day twenty of the terrorists were hanging in front of the group's headquarters. The Soviet diplomat was released within hours. That demonstration had stayed with Sasha to this day.

If a terrorist attacks you, you teach them the meaning of the word terror. They kill one of yours, you kill all of them. The message was unmistakable; we are not people you want to fuck with.

Two of his men were dead in Paris. Another was dead in Sarajevo. Still another was in jail on attempted murder charges. His response was gong to be massive and swift. He already had fifty men on their way to Paris. Everyone was going to die.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda Waller sat behind her desk reviewing the latest intelligence. The murder of Frasier was a problem. Up to this point she had not gotten involved with the case because of her prior dealings with Nemesis. She still didn't believe he was responsible, but that was rapidly becoming an irrelevant point. As long as he was on the loose he was a liability. He had knowledge of a highly sensitive nature at his disposal. That knowledge made him dangerous to Amanda and the Agency.

The whole business with the Senator's son brought unwanted attention. Questions were starting to be asked. Amanda didn't like questions or attention. Her job and the things she did were meant to remain in the shadows. People didn't really want to know how things were done, just that they were taken care of. That's what she did she took care of things. Now it seems she would have to take care of this situation.

She sat back for a moment and seemed to be looking off into space. If she had an actual Rolodex she would have been thumbing through it for a number she hadn't used in years. In her business you never get rid of any possible asset. It took her several minutes, but finally she remembered the number. Using a secure line she slowly dialed the number.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

"Strange Fruit" by Billie Holiday was playing as Suzette arrived back at the apartment. Julian was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed, enjoying the music. He shifted slightly as he felt her walk into the room. He watched her for a moment, as she set her bag down on the table. She opened and took out the car keys and tossed them on the table. She was just heading towards her room, when Julian finally spoke.

"Another date with the young government man?"

She stopped and turned towards him.

"Yes."

"Good, good, you should enjoy yourself while you're in Paris,' he replied. "How did that other matter go, by the way?"

"I put the two of them in the room together,' she said. "One or both won't come out."

"Well done," he said with a smile. "How about the car?"

"The car?" She seemed to almost have forgotten about. "I left it somewhere. I don't remember exactly. I'm sure someone will find it soon enough."

"I'm sure they will." Julian agreed with a nod. "Any idea which of them will come out of the building?'

"Does it matter?" She asked.

"No, but it would be nice to know,' he replied. Suzette seemed to think about it for a moment.

"If we are betting on who survived, I would put my money on Nemesis. Not that he's smarter or better, but he has the element of surprise on his side. I'm sure we'll find out in a day or so. Now, I should really get ready for my date, Julian. You wouldn't want me to be late, would you?"

"No, of course not, have fun,' he replied. Suzette flashed a smile, as she turned and walked into her room. Julian closed his eyes again, as the haunting voice of Billie Holiday washed over him. The song was just ending as the phone rang. Julian slowly sat up and answered it. He smiled when he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Well hello, Amanda, it's been a long time,' he cheerfully said.

* * *

><p>Sarajevo<p>

The train was crowded as Clark eased his way into the car. He found himself glancing out the window, but he knew she wouldn't be there. Tearful, waving goodbyes wasn't her style. Part of him wanted to get off the train and rush back to the hotel room, but she would already have left. If he were going to see her again, it would have to be after he dealt with everything.

As the train jerked and started out of the station, Clark suddenly remembered a book he'd once read, Night Mother by Kurt Vonnegut. He'd seen Vonnegut interviewed about it and the author had said the message of the book was rather simple. What we pretend to be, we end up being. As he watched the city slip away behind him, Clark wondered if he started pretending to be the man he wanted to be when he next saw her, would he become that man? He hoped so. He might even wish it, but …


	29. Chapter 29

The Ides of September

Paris - Gare du Nord

One of many trains pulled into the station. She lit a match and slowly brought it up to the tip of her cigarette. The flame fluctuated. She inhaled and let the warm smoke roll over her tongue. There was a cold light in her eyes, like dawn on an ugly morning. The colors of the environment seemed muted, grays and blues out of some surreal painting. That first hint of fall was in the cool, crisp air. A smile curled at her lips as she watched the train stop on the tracks. Her anticipation was building. She was here as more of a detached witness than a participant.

Suzette exhaled, a thin stream of smoke escaping her lips and then billowing into a wispy cloud as it moved away into the air. Coffee sat on the table in front of her, untouched. Her eyes danced over everyone, measuring them or dismissing them. Most of the players in today's drama had already arrived. The Russians had disembarked in twos and threes, staggered out over several trains arriving from Germany and Belgium. They were so easy to spot. They all wore new, expensive suits, yet they had no style about them. They wore their clothes like auto mechanics dressing up for a funeral.

The Paris police were here too. They had been tipped off about something big going down at the station. As her eyes shifted around the terminal Suzette could pick them out one by one. The measured, almost forced nonchalance of their posture. They dressed and tried to act like workers, but they didn't have the resigned carelessness of workers. She smiled to herself, the phrase '_a cop is a cop where ever you go_' repeated in her head.

Here and there she spotted others, perhaps Council, perhaps Americans or even French. They were outgunned on every side and didn't even know it yet. Nemesis was nowhere to be seen. Whether he was dead or not, Suzette hadn't given a second thought. Her focus was on the game that was about to be played. She had thought the show Julian had taken her to had been the most exciting thing she had ever seen, but now she knew differently. Today's game was going to be played on a grander scale and every gun had bullets in it. All that was needed to get it started was someone to drop the needle on the record.

That someone was on the train that had just arrived. Kal.

She had a fleeting thought of warning him, but knew that wouldn't change anything. The game was going to be played no matter what he did. It had already progressed too far for it to stop now. As they say, _the show must go on_. Exhaling another cloud of smoke, Suzette reached for her coffee and took a sip. Her eyes watched as the passengers disembarked, innocently naive to the danger all around them. They were a mixed lot she supposed, dull tourists and businesswomen and men for the most part.

Then she saw him.

He stopped on the top step and put on a fedora. He adjusted the brim as his eyes moved over the crowd and then he started down the three steps to the platform. The needle dropped and the music began. Suzette felt her pulse began to race as she watched him move along with the others. She had forgotten how improbably handsome he was. He wore his old suit with an unconscious style like a man that clothes were made for. In any crowd he would stand out, she thought. He seemed to appear in bold colors to her against the muted blues and grays of everyone else. A beautiful destructive angel on a dark street.

She could almost hear the music playing as he walked towards the exit. Like a wave on a lake, his movement created ripples all around him.

_All around the Mulberry Bush,_

_The monkey chased the weasel._

_The monkey stopped to pull on his cock,_

_Pop! Goes the weasel._

And then the music stopped. Suzette's eyes shifted rapidly wanting to see who made the first move. If she had been betting, her money would have been on the Russians, but one of the others surprised her. A man broke from the crowd and made a beeline straight for Kal. She noticed for the first time he had something in his ear and a wire running down under his suit coat. When he got within ten feet of Kal, the man reached for something at the base of his spine. He never finished the move, as a bullet blew off the top of his head.

It was like being at a loud party where everyone is shouting and then the music stops. The sound of the bullet was the one that continued. Time halted for just the slimmest moment and then everything exploded into an orgasmic chaos of noise and violence. The first shot had been so clear, like the first chime of a bell. The torrent it unleashed was overwhelming, deafening in its volume.

The train station at the best of times was like an orderly fire drill, where the people moved in lines towards the exits. Now a real fire had broken out and those orderly lines dissolved into a mad panic to escape. Horror, violence and the prospect of imminent death usually don't bring out the best in people. Their more basic instincts take over. Flight is the usual response. Blind panic tells us to run, get out anyway anyhow we can. Other people suddenly become obstacles to our survival. Desperation overwhelms compassion. The ugliest side of humanity is laid bare.

* * *

><p>Clark felt like he'd stepped off the train into a nightmare. When the first shot rang out he'd flinched like everyone else. His eyes went wide in horror as he watched the man tip and then tumble lifelessly to the concrete. There was no time to process it as more bullets hit all around him. He watched as the young mother standing in front of him was knocked off her feet and into his arms when another bullet tore into her shoulder. She had been holding hands with two young children but was ripped from their grasp. More bullets hit all around them.<p>

On instinct Clark grabbed the two kids with one arm and carried them up the stairs of the train car along with their mother. They tumbled inside, even as the edge of the stairs dissolved into splinters under the hail of gunfire. Bullets ricocheted off the metal side of the train like heavy rain on a tin roof. Clark knew there was no chance to run, so he dove down onto the train car floor. The sound of police sirens and voices amplified through bullhorns mixed with the screams of passengers and hail of gunfire. Crawling on his hands and knees, the windows of the train car exploded all around him. He was a target, maybe even the principal target he realized. It was an ambush and he'd walked right into it.

It couldn't be the police; they wouldn't put so many innocent civilian lives in jeopardy like this. Who exactly it was, he didn't know and at the moment didn't care. Having recently been shot for the first time, Clark wasn't eager to experience again. All around him he could hear people dying and there was nothing he could do to save them. It seems death was still following him. Scrambling forward he knew he had to do something. The gun battle going on outside only seemed to intensify with each passing second.

If he was truly the target then perhaps he could draw them away from the main terminal. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Cursing himself for being a damn fool, Clark reached the next car and the stairway to the platform. Taking one deep breath, he jumped down and then rolled underneath the train, emerging on the other side. He could hear angry shouts amongst the gunfire and knew they had seen him.

Dark tunnels branched off the main terminal, so he ran towards them, hoping they would follow.

* * *

><p>Suzette sat completely still as the orgy of violence surrounded her. She felt like she was adrift on the ocean as a tidal wave came washing in. Most of the same emotions everyone else was experiencing went through her, but the most intense one was exhilaration. She had never felt more alive than she was at that moment. Her heart was racing, her breathing rapid, she felt almost giddy from the adrenaline rushing through her veins.<p>

Julian had called this an adventure and it certainly was. All her senses seemed to be heightened as the world exploded into a blood bath all around her. Everywhere she turned her eye the carnage continued to unfold. The police had been caught off guard by the first shot, but now they were in a firefight. The Russians seemed to care little who they shot as if they intended to kill everyone. The other smaller factions along with the bystanders scrambled for cover.

She could hear more sirens in the distance fast approaching. Reinforcements must have been called in, as the situation slipped out of control. Movement from the train caught her eye and she saw Kal dive out and then scramble under the car. Suzette smiled as she watched the Russians then the police follow. She dropped the rest of her cigarette into the coffee cup and the started for the exit. All around her she could see men racing towards the tunnels.

The monkeys chase the weasel, she thought with a small smirk.

* * *

><p>The tunnels were pitch black and Clark continued to stumble as he moved away from the main terminal. He could hear voices and then gunfire behind him. It seems they were following him. Hopefully that saved some of the people in the terminal. The only problem was that still left his life in jeopardy. Frantically he ran, stumbling and falling, but never stopping. He finally saw a light up ahead, but only at the last moment did he realize it was an oncoming train.<p>

Diving into the blackness, Clark barely managed to get out of the way. He scrambled to press himself against the tunnel wall, as the train rushed by. It was metro train. That meant there were other platforms, other exits down the line. As he stood there, pressed against the wall Clark realized he wanted to live. He suddenly desperately wanted to live. He was horrified and scared out of his mind, but that one thought was foremost in his mind. He'd made a promise and he was damn sure he was going to do his all to keep it.

The metro train finally passed. Clark scrambled down the tunnel as fast as his legs could carry him. As the sound of the train faded, angry shouts and then gunfire erupted again. The loose gravel under his feet made it hard going, but he didn't stop. As he moved along the curved wall he finally saw a lightened platform just up ahead. He gave a sigh of relief, but then saw the police officers waiting.

By now the news of what was happening in the main terminal had to have reached them. Their guns were drawn and he had the feeling they would shoot anyone emerging from the tunnel. He was caught. Police in front of him and God knows who behind him. Inching his way along the wall, Clark stayed in the shadows as best he could. As he got closer to the platform, he could hear the police radios. The order had come in to evacuate the platform, as the gunfight was moving that way. Sweating madly, Clark pressed himself against he wall, trying to think of some way out of this. He could make a dash for the platform and hope they would give him a chance to explain, but that didn't seem like the best bet. He could turn around and go back, hoping he could slip by them in the darkness, but that seemed foolhardy. The rumble of another train approaching started from down the tunnel. He had been so panicked he hadn't heard the last one until it was on top of him. Curses in several languages reached his ears from the people behind him in the tunnel. Time was running out, he had to do something.

The train, Clark suddenly thought. Lunging across the tracks to the opposite side, he knew the policemen had seen him. They began to shout and then fire at him. He scrambled down into the darkness as the bullets got closer and closer. Finally the train rushed between him and the police. He had one chance at this. Clark began running along with the train. Every step he was sure he was going to stumble in the loose gravel and go head first under the wheels. Timing it as best he could, Clark made a desperate lunge towards the train and grabbed one of the railings as it rushed by. He was jerked off his feet and into the air. It felt as if his shoulder was being pulled out of the socket, but he held on. Lights from the platform flickered passed his eyes and then he was plunged into darkness again. Gritting his teeth in pain, he managed to get both hands on the railing and pulled himself onto the steps of the train car. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped for air. He'd made it.

* * *

><p>The metro train slowed as it approached another platform. The chaos and violence was far behind. The cars came to a stop and the passengers began to get off. Clark straightened his suit as best he could and followed the others. His eyes darted around, looking for anyone that might be after him. Everything seemed calm, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Spying a Men's room, he ducked inside.<p>

He walked over to the mirrors and looked at his reflection. His hair was a mess; sweat soaked his face and shirt, in short he looked like a man running for his life. He turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water over his face. His breathing finally came back under control. He reached for a paper towel just as the door to the Men's room opened. A large man in a brand new ill-fitting suit stepped inside and pointed a gun at Clark. He was a thick hard looking man and there was something in his eyes that let Clark know he was a killer. The man moved closer and gestured for Clark to raise his hands. Clark did.

"You've been more trouble than you're worth."

The man had an accent, Russian, Clark realized. So that's what this was about he realized. Clark was exhausted. He was going to have to fight this man, disarm him some how. Otherwise he would be dead in a Paris bathroom and that just wasn't going to happen. The man gave him a cruel smile. Clark just stared at him with utterly blank, empty eyes.

"Nothing to say?" the goon asked.

"Not with a gun on me."

"Is that a principle?"

"A habit."

"So no last words? Have it your way."

Clark closed his eyes and flinched as he heard the gunshot. It happened so fast he hadn't had time to move or react. He felt nothing, though. As he opened his eyes, he saw the man standing in front of him. He had a queer expression on his face, almost one of disbelief. Another shot reverberated off the cold tile of the bathroom and then the man dropped to the ground. Standing by the door, a gun still smoking in her hand was Suzette. She glanced down briefly at the dead man, but then moved over to Clark. She kissed him and then seductively smiled.

"Welcome to Paris, Kal."


	30. Chapter 30

Funeral in Gotham

'Death's in the good-bye.'

Gotham

It was twilight, the divide between night and day.

If New York is the city that never sleeps, Gotham is the city that never rests.

The news came this morning.

Bruce stood alone on top of Wayne Tower looking over the city. He had walked up the private staircase when he heard the news to be alone in his thoughts with his first love, Gotham. That's what it was between Bruce and his city, a love affair. If you weren't from Gotham there would be no way to explain it. If you were, there was no need to explain.

There was a saying that a city got the heroes it deserved. This was especially true in Gotham's case. Its most famous hero's nickname even spoke of it, The Dark Knight. Gotham was a city of the night. A vibrant, dangerous, tempestuous mistress that once she got a hold on you never let you go. It had always been like that. Gotham was living on a fault line, between good and evil, light and darkness. Each side had its champions, trying to push the city over the edge towards one side or the other. The names might change but the struggle never did.

Vic Sage was dead.

Tomorrow's paper would run his obituary, a short profile of his life. It wouldn't even make the evening news. That was because like so many things in Gotham, he was seen in profile and there was a whole other side hidden from view. Vic was a good man, a hero, but the public at large would never know. That was the price he was willing to pay to do what needed to be done.

As Bruce gazed over the so familiar skyline of his city, he let himself feel the loss. Like so many things in his life, he did this alone. That was the price it seemed his mistress demanded.

Gotham.

Bruce had been all over this world and others, yet always came back here. Gotham was in his veins, just as his blood was on her streets. Blood sacrifice, a notion from a bygone time, yet the Wayne family had spilled its share for this city. Heaven and hell weren't abstracts here. They were daily life. Now the city had claimed another champion. It was understood from the outset. No one gets out of here alive. The city always wins.

Vic's death hit Bruce hard. It wasn't simply the loss of a friend or hero. It was much more personal it brought home his own mortality. It was a vivid reminder how the sands of time weren't running in his favor. 40, Forty Years Old, for most it represented a middle point in their life. They could look forward to many more productive years. Relatives would joke with them, putting up signs in front yard that said, 'Lordy, Lordy, Bruce is Forty.' It was a time to celebrate what you'd accomplished. To look at the family around you and watch as your children began their own journey into adulthood.

For Bruce it represented the beginning of the end. He was like an athlete faced with the prospect that his time in the game was over. Most don't accept it until it's too late and they don't get to exit on their terms. That was unacceptable to a man like Bruce. He knew he would have to step away soon, but still couldn't picture it in his mind. Even for someone as rational and analytical as he was, love couldn't be quantified. He couldn't just walk away from his dark mistress.

Like Ulysses before him, Bruce had given up home, family and hearth to follow the siren's song. His siren was the city, Gotham. He'd known many women and even loved one. They ran the gambit from princesses to assassins, yet each time he would eventually have to make a choice and Gotham always won. First loves were like that. You may fall in love again, but it will never be the same as your first love. Now his journey was coming to a close and the shore was in sight.

Standing up here looking out over Gotham, Bruce could almost hear it calling to him. Like the most seductive mistress, it was trying to lure him away from thoughts of the future. They had now and that was all that matter. He'd already sacrificed so much it would whisper, what is one more sacrifice for true love?

Bruce slowly reached up and brushed a tear from his cheek. Whether it was because of Vic's death or his own mortality, he didn't know in that moment. Taking a deep breath he steeled himself against those emotions. Years of practice had served him well. Tomorrow would be the funeral. He would be there to honor Vic. They all would.

Most referred to them as the Bat family but this was a misnomer. They were the Gotham family. Each had come to the city by different paths, but they were apart of it now. Heroes, yes, but mortal men and women all, each had their own special attachment to this place. They would be there to honor one of their own, a fallen member of the Gotham family.

He didn't turn when he heard her footsteps. It had been two years since he'd seen her. He followed her movements from Paris to Rome to New York. He told himself it was just to make sure she was staying out of trouble, but couldn't quite bring himself to fully believe that. She didn't say anything at first, as she walked up and stopped next to him. He felt her warm hand take his. He looked at her for the first time.

"Selina."

"I heard the news."

It was as simple as that. There were no explanations why needed, she was just there. She was part of Gotham's family too.

"Yes,' he replied. "Helena is taking it very hard."

Selina nodded in understanding.

"I know how much you hate them, but I'll go to the funeral with you, if you like?"

"Thank you."

They didn't speak, just stood looking out over their city, holding hands.

* * *

><p>All Souls Cemetery<p>

Sadness and umbrellas marked the occasion. The sound of rain accompanied Helena up to the small podium. She carried a single sheet of paper. Dressed in black, veil in place she was here to say a few last words. Those that knew her sometimes had difficulty remembering this side of her, the traditionalist. It seemed like a contradiction, but then everything about Gotham tended to be that way. Slowly she ran her hand over the smooth black casket, Her fingers seemed to tremble for a moment but she somehow controlled it. Swallowing the emotions inside of her, she began to speak.

"_Everywhere he dies.  
>Everywhere I go he dies.<br>No sunrise, no city square, no lurking beautiful mountain but has his death in it.  
>The silence of his dying sounds through the carousel of language, it's a web on which laughter stitches itself.<br>How can my hand clasp another's when between them is that thick death, that intolerable distance?  
>He grieves for my grief.<br>Dying, he tells me that birds dives from the sun, that fish leaps into it.  
>No crocus is carved more gently than the way his dying shapes my mind.<br>But I hear, too, the other words, black words that make the sound of soundlessness, that name the nowhere he is continuously going into.  
>Ever since he died he can't stop dying.<br>He makes me his elegy. I am a walking masterpiece, a true fiction of the ugliness of death.  
>I am his sad music."<em>

Silence followed, except for the rain.

The preacher came over and whispered something to her. Helena just nodded and moved back to her place. The ceremony went on, the preacher offered the usual words.

Diana adjusted her plain black suit absently. She stood next to Jonn sharing an umbrella. Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes as they moved over those in attendance. Barbara Gordon and Dinah Lance stood on either side of Helena for support, but she kept a brave face all during the ceremony. Diana found herself something of an observer at the funeral. While she was here to honor Victor Sage and did mourn his loss, she wasn't as closely connected to him as many of the others were. They tended to travel in different spheres and their paths only crossed on few occasions.

She noticed that the location, Gotham, seemed more a part of this than one would usually find at a funeral. It was almost as if the city itself were a presence. The family stood together, directly behind Helena. They were all there. Whatever differences they might have amongst themselves were put aside today. This was about a fallen brother and they circled ranks at these times.

The rest of the mourners, those not from Gotham, stood in twos and threes on the sides.

Funerals weren't a foreign concept to Diana. While rare on Themyscira, they did happen. Sisters fell in battle. In the years since arriving, she had been to more funerals than she wanted to count. The first had been Kal's memorial. In many ways that was still the most jarring, yet it had been understandable to her. A hero falls in battle, that story was as old as time. Monuments and tributes were erected.

In recent years the funerals had begun to change. Battles weren't the culprit, disease, accidents and time were. They were times for reflection both on the life lost and one's own mortality. As her eyes shifted over the others, part of her wondered what it was like to know of your own mortality in such an intimate way. It also reminder her of just how different she really was from all of them.

She understood more intimately with each passing year this was a scene that would repeat for her with nearly all of them. Unless the Gods deemed otherwise or she fell in battle, Diana knew that one by one the comrades of her youth would slip away to the inevitable. She joined them now in grieving for Victor Sage, but also for each and every one of them. In many ways, time was their ultimate enemy for them, one they would not vanquish.

Even as this sad understanding came to her, her thoughts were turning elsewhere. Her keen eyes noticed Bruce holding Selina's hand and Ollie placing his fingers lightly on Dinah's shoulder. Others in the group held each other in a light embrace, as if their connection gave them strength. It had always been something she secretly envied about her friends. Each had found someone to share his or her lives. For some it would always be a struggle, a constant push and pull against those most intimate of desires. Others had welcomed it with open arms, finding the special someone to share their journey.

Until recently Diana hadn't even realized just how much she'd been searching for that too. With each attempted at a romantic relationship she had experienced bits and pieces of it. Many were things that could be done with a friend, such as sharing dinner or taking a walk. But with each little success and painful defeat, Diana slowly began to understand those little details combined with the big things were what she wanted. She knew now she wanted it all, not pieces or parts of it.

She wanted a partner, a lover and a friend. She wanted to share her life with someone else and have them share theirs with her. She wanted that special person to wake up next to in the morning. She wanted to know he would be next to her at events like this, holding her hand or putting his arm around her shoulders. She wanted to sit in a kitchen sharing bowls of soup, discussing each other's day. She wanted all those little things that everyone else had. For all the things that made her different from everyone else, this desire made her so human.

Standing silently between the grieving and the raindrops, Diana thought she might have finally found that person. Somewhere her Gods were probably having a good laugh at this. The irony that he was the most infuriating man she'd ever met wasn't lost on her either.

Kal.

She rolled her eyes as she remembered in the early days how people said they were almost too much alike. Yes, they shared similar views on some things, but Diana had frankly never seen it. They were as different in temperament as they were in upbringing. If they actually looked beyond the costumes and amazing powers, they would see they were nothing alike. In many ways Diana felt more kinship with Bruce than she did with Kal. Both had trained to be what they were. Both were warriors and understood the necessity of battle. Both were on a mission. And both were royalty in their ways.

Of course their differences were also more noticeable too. It was those differences that always doomed them being together in the end. As she glanced over at him now, Diana realized there was probably another reason they had never discussed. It seemed Selina and Bruce had been playing their game since the moment they first saw each other. It was just another part of the strange dichotomy that was Gotham.

Diana wished Kal were here.

At the moment she wanted nothing more than to feel him standing next to her, to physically know he was in the world. Since leaving Sarajevo, he had been on her mind constantly. Something had happened in that small cheap hotel, something she had never felt before. Making love to him had left her desperately wanting more. She wanted more of that physical relationship, but also wanted just more of him. She knew she'd fallen in love with him. It surprised her just how quickly it happened.

Now she had to wait.

Waiting was proving to be very hard. After so many years and false steps, she finally found what she wanted only to have to wait. She could tell herself she understood why he needed time, but that didn't make it any easier. Where he was going and the people he was involved with were so dangerous. The thought of losing him now after she'd finally found him was too unimaginably cruel to comprehend.

Why couldn't anything be easy with him, she wondered?

* * *

><p>Gotham – Wayne Mansion – Later<p>

In times like these, most of us fall back on customs. If you stop and think about it, having a meal after a funeral really makes no sense. 'Someone died, let's eat!' seems crude and rather strange, yet it has become a custom we all just accept. It's part of the ritual most follow. What was happening tonight at Wayne mansion was slightly different. It was a wake for Vic Sage.

It is a peculiar Irish tradition, but it's a good one. To the uninitiated, it almost seems like a party and in a way it is. Also, since it's an Irish tradition, alcohol is involved. It's a last chance to say goodbye, but so much more. It is an opportunity to celebrate the departed person's life in the company of family and friends and to mark their departure. A wake is a scene of both sadness and joy as the end of that life is marked but the life itself is remembered and treasured. The mourners congregate, eat, drink, and talk. Even the most sorrowful mourner is inspired to raise a glass and remember the happiest of times in the life of the person who has passed.

It's a remembrance of the person's life, not their death.

In that tradition, Wayne manor as filled with laughter and tears. Stories were told and moments remembered. Vic Sage was alive in those stories. Each person remembered something of his life, no matter how small. Some of the stories were sad, but others brought tears of laughter. He was remembered as a whole man, the good with the bad, the silly with the sad.

There's a saying that goes something like, 'a man is never truly dead, as long as one person remembers him.'

If there were even a grain of truth in that, Vic Sage would live long after his body was gone.

Bruce stood on the back terrace looking out at the stars. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand and slowly raised it in a silent toast to Vic. An intensely private man, Bruce still had the same feelings as everyone else. He had mostly stayed in the background tonight, just listening as the others told their stories. He smiled now, remembering Ollie and Dinah relating the events of their double date with Vic and Helena. There was really no other place he wanted to be tonight. He was with family.

"Drinking alone, Bruce?'

He turned and saw Dick step out onto the terrace.

"Just offering a toast,' Bruce replied. Dick smiled and raised his own glass.

"To Vic."

"To Vic."

They touched glasses and drank. The two men stood for several moments in silence. In some ways they knew each other better than just about anyone else. They had their differences, but then all families have problems.

"I haven't made a decision, yet,' Dick finally said.

"Okay."

"I have thought about it,' Dick admitted. "A lot."

"But?'

"Why? I guess that's the question I keep coming back to. I remember you saying many times you didn't want me to take over for you,' Dick explained. "Why the change? Why now?"

Bruce nodded in understanding.

"When I said that, I meant it. I knew what this life was like and I never wanted that for you. I hoped after your parents died, I was giving you something, a purpose, and a reason to go on. I knew how easily something like that can eat away at you. How easily it can make you turn away from everything good in the world. I didn't want that to happen to you, Dick."

It was Dick's turn to nod. He was surprised by Bruce's answer, but it did explain many things.

"I didn't know that then, but I've come to realize it since,' Dick replied. "Thank you for that, Bruce, but that doesn't explain why now?"

Bruce glanced back into the main room where most of the others were still gathered.

"Because everything that has a beginning also has an end."

"So this is about Vic?"

"Maybe, but only as a reminder,' Bruce explained. "What we do makes a difference, Dick. Gotham needs people that will stand up to the darkness, to fight for those that can't fight. If you read the history of this place, each generation has it's champions and it's villains. To borrow a line from an old friend, it's a never-ending struggle."

"But why now, Bruce?'

"Because time doesn't discriminate, it affects us all. A man that's honest with himself understands this. If you look at that history I was mentioning, you'll also see that what those champions of yesteryear tried to do died with them and the chaos always returned. I want to break that cycle. I don't want Batman to just pass into history and become just another urban legend of Gotham. I want the work to be carried on. I want you to do it, Dick."

"Why me? Why not…"

Bruce cut him off before he could say the name. Sadness came over him as he spoke.

"Because in the end he was always his mother's son. He would have been a mockery of what I tried to stand for. In the end I realized you were the only real choice."

Dick nodded in understanding, but still had two questions.

"Can you walk away, Bruce? If you did, what would you do?"

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke it was barely above a whisper.

"The answer to both questions is I don't know."

* * *

><p>Inside Diana was refilling her glass of champagne. She didn't really have any stories to tell, but she had listened to the others. She felt she knew Vic Sage, the Question a little better now from the stories of his friends. Her heart went out to Helena. She had tried to keep a stiff upper lip as Alfred put it, throughout the evening, but when Ollie and Dinah related the story of their double date, Diana had noticed Helena quietly slip away.<p>

Barbara Gordon had noticed too. She excused herself and followed Helena. She was the shoulder Helena needed to cry on. Diana had politely given them their privacy. She moved back amongst the others, talking and laughing with them, but even here she was reminded she was alone. She glanced around the room and spotted the other person in a similar situation, Jonn. She was a bit surprised to see him participating in the story telling. It seemed he had many dealings with the Question both humorous and serious.

Diana suddenly realized that even Jonn was more familiar with all this than she was. He had been through it before. He had loved and lost. He'd known what it was like to find the one to share his life with. He knew what it was like to loss them too. Remembrance wasn't exclusively a human thing, she realized. Perhaps this custom was exclusively Irish either, they just put their own unique spin on it.

As she moved through the wake, it was an off-hand comment from Zatanna that caught Diana's attention. Zee had been on duty and arrived late. She was talking with Shayera and Kator and mentioned a wild shootout in Paris. It seemed it was all over the news. The League had offered their assistance, but French authorities said they would handle it.

Diana found herself searching out a television. In Bruce's office she found one and turned it on. She watched the news for a few moments, waiting to here the details. Finally a live report from Paris came on. The scenes were something out of a battlefield except they were in the heart of the city. Russian mobsters, Paris police and others were said to be involved in a huge gun battle. The reporter interviewed one of the witnesses. The young woman recounted how she had been waiting for her train, when all hell had broken loose. The reporter asked if she saw what started it? The young woman said she wasn't sure, but it seemed everything started when a man got off a train.

When a man got off a train repeated in Diana's mind.

Kal!

In the next moment, Diana was outside and rising off the ground.


	31. Chapter 31

A Kiss to Build a Dream On

Paris

She was hovering over the city before she even realized it. Now that she was here, Diana wasn't quite sure what she was going to do. The gun battle was over hours ago. He wasn't there or at least she hoped he wasn't there. She'd heard the news and immediately thought of him. The witness had said it started when a man got off a train. Kal was a man on a train and he must have gotten off it, Diana thought. It was thin, very thin, she now realized. She was still wearing her black suit from the funeral and carrying her purse. Hera, she wasn't going to become one of those women, was she? Next she would be calling him out of the blue just to see what he was doing.

Well, I could call him, just to make sure he's all right, she thought.

Gods, I've got it bad.

* * *

><p>Paris - Earlier<p>

He was on sensory overload. Everything seemed to happen in a blur of motion. The gun battle, the desperate escape and then the unexpected, Suzette killed a man right before Clark's eyes. She kissed him. The world he thought he knew suddenly looked unfamiliar. Stumbling out of the restroom and up the stairs to the street, Clark felt as if he was lost in the familiar. Landmarks and known places suddenly took on a new, ominous appearance. A shadow world that usually remains just at the edges of awareness had suddenly shifted and replaced the real one.

Moving, the world speeding towards him on fast forward. Suzette was behind the wheel maneuvering them through the city traffic as if she hadn't a care in the world. She glanced over at him and smiled.

She smiled.

It could only be minutes ago she'd killed a man. Clark realized this was a different Suzette or perhaps the true Suzette. Sitting in the car just looking at her he realized he didn't really know her at all. He almost started to protest that she'd killed a man, but then stopped himself. It sounded hollow even to him. The man was going to murder Clark in cold blood. She had stopped him. It was much too late to be morally outraged. He had blood on his own hands.

* * *

><p>Suzette could feel him looking at her. She briefly turned and gave him a smile. Her pulse quickened at the sight of him so close. It had been too long since they'd been together. She wanted to feel his body against hers, to possess him again. The hunger flared through her body as she imagined it in her mind.<p>

The man she'd just killed was already forgotten except for the thrill of pulling the trigger. That she would remember for a long time. She usually preferred to stand back and watch or get others to do her bidding much like Julian, but on the rare occasion there was nothing quite like doing it yourself. Life or death, it became merely the choice of pulling a trigger. The world slowed down in that moment and you glimpsed for the smallest instance what a God must feel like.

Suzette felt exhilarated. She wanted to pull the car over and attack Kal right on the side of the street. The mix of death and sex leading to the most life affirming act two people can do was an almost an irresistible temptation for her. It would be so easy to give in. The sirens, a distant echo slipping further and further behind them. No, she thought, she would make him wait. She still had a date this evening. It would make it so much more tolerable if she had something to look forward to when it was over. Perhaps she would even sleep with the young government official and not go to Kal tonight. When she finally decided to go to him, he would know she was in control.

Suzette made several turns and then pulled the car over. Turning off the engine she looked once against to Clark.

"We walk from here, Kal."

* * *

><p>Paris – A Safe House Cellar<p>

A single light bulb hung down from the insulated ceiling, illuminating the cinder block walls. A man was tied to a chair in the center of the room. His face was swollen; blood ran down his chin from his battered lips. Blood dripped from his fingers and pooled on the floor under his feet. His shirt was ripped and he was soaked with sweat. Pain seemed to radiate from every part of his body, yet he'd remained silent, except for the screaming. Nothing could stop him from screaming. His breath came in gasps and small sobs escaped his lips.

Nemesis stood in the shadows behind the man. This was the last one of the Council's men and Tom had kept him alive for information. The rest were dead. After he left Suzette's car, Tom had scouted the building out to confirm whether she was telling the truth or sending him into an ambush. It had taken only a few minutes to recognize the men from Hong Kong. With the element of surprise on his side, he made his move. The gun battle was ferocious, but Tom came out victorious. He'd been stabbed, but that hadn't slowed him down. He killed them all before they could kill him. The man that stabbed him was currently sitting tied to the chair in front of him.

Torture was something Nemesis usually shunned. It was sloppy and didn't give you reliable information. Interrogation and wearing your subject down were much better, but time consuming. That was something Tom had a limited supply of. This was an extreme case. The circle was closing in on Tom and it wouldn't be too long before the Agency found him again. He didn't need reliable information from the man he needed a confession. He was going to get it even if he had to torture him.

"Johnny, I have to admit, you've done the Council proud,' Nemesis said. "Most men would have broken by now. Pulling out your fingernails usually does the trick, but your tough, aren't you, Johnny? You took it. I thought the toenails would be more than enough but again you surprised me. I've heard its agony having them pulled out one by one like that. You took it though. Well done, Johnny, really well done. Yes you screamed and cried but still you didn't tell me what I wanted to hear. I guess I'll just have to step up my game, won't I?'

Nemesis brushed her fingertips against the back of the man's head and felt him flinch under his touch.

"You're going to kill me anyway,' the man gasped. "I will tell you nothing."

Nemesis moved to the side and leaned down towards the man. His voice was low, as he whispered in his ear.

"That's the wrong attitude, Johnny, all wrong,' Nemesis said. "You are right; I am going to kill you. I mean there is no reason for me to lie to you; we both know that's how this is going to end. I going to take this gun and put a bullet in your brain. Nothing is going to change that outcome. What you have to consider is do we get to it the easy way or the hard way?'

Nemesis moved in front of the man and stood looking down at him. He waited. The man still said nothing.

"So it's the hard way, pity,' Nemesis said with a shake of his head. "Do you know why they call it water boarding, Johnny? No? It's rather simple really, because it involves a board and water. Simulated drowning just doesn't roll off the tongue as easily. Plus simulated drowning has a frightening sound to it when you think about it. Hard to sell simulated drowning to people, but water boarding doesn't really sound that bad in the abstract. It's all about finding soft words to make something seem not as bad as it really is."

Nemesis took a step closer to the man and then brought a hammer out from behind his back. He held it up in front of the man's face. The steel ball peen hammer shown under the light. Nemesis turned it over slowly for a moment.

"So using the water boarding example, what we are going to do would best be described as hammer flesh, Johnny. I'll start with those bloody toes of yours and work my way up. There are a lot of bones in just the foot did you know that? I used to know the exact number, but we'll go with a lot for now." Tom calmly said. "You're going to tell me who killed Sloan, Johnny. You're going to tell me who killed the Senator's son, too. I'm pretty sure it was Frasier, but he's dead so he can't confirm it. You on the other hand are still alive. So what do you say, Johnny? Feel like tell me and saving us both a lot of trouble?"

The man just stared at Nemesis and refused to talk, his mouth tightly closed. Nemesis sighed and then brought the hammer down hard. The scream echoed through the cinder block basement. More screams would follow it.

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

The sound of Frank Sinatra greeted Clark as he entered the apartment.

"Ah, good to see you again, Horse. I've been watching the news and I must say you always managed to making things exciting."

Clark turned as he heard the sound of a cork popping. Julian stepped out of the shadows. He smiled and then held up three glasses and a bottle of champagne.

"Julian."

The older man walked towards Clark and Suzette and stopped just in front of them. He offered a glass to each of them. Clark reluctantly took one. Julian poured them each a glass and then held his up.

"A toast,' he said. "To your escape from the train station."

Suzette and Julian took a sip, but Clark set his glass down.

"A lot of innocent people died at the train station, Julian," Clark stated. "It's not really something to celebrate."

"People die every day, Horse,' Julian replied. "The toast was to the fact that you weren't among them."

"I'll pass."

Julian took another sip of champagne.

"Survivor's guilt." He commented. "Something you're intimately familiar with, isn't it?"

"I was the target, Julian,' Clark replied. "Those people are dead because of me."

"Did you pull the trigger?" Julian asked. "Did you shoot anyone? No, my friend, you didn't. You escaped and survived. Why is that such a horrible thing? If the Russians hold a grunge and decided to shoot up a train station, how is that your fault? You might as well say it's my fault for introducing you to them."

Clark really had no answer for this. It still felt wrong to celebrate, though. Suzette had finished her glass and was refilling it.

"They had the same chance to escape as you did,' she offered. "It wasn't even like you knew them after all."

"It doesn't matter if I knew them or not, Suzette,' Clark protested. "They were innocent and now they're dead because of me."

Suzette looked at him for a moment, her expression one of disbelief.

"You didn't even have a gun, what were you supposed to do?"

"I should have done …. something."

Suzette just shook her head and then turned towards her room.

"I've got to change, I've got a date tonight."

Clark watched her go. After she disappeared into her room, Julian took him by the arm and led him over to the couch. The two men sat down. Julian refilled his glass, but Clark's sat untouched.

"A hero." Julian said.

"What?"

"That's what you wanted to be tonight, isn't it?" Julian asked. "You wish you could have saved them."

"Yes." Clark admitted.

"But you're not, are you, Horse?" Julian asked.

"No."

"Welcome to the human race, Horse,' Julian said with a smile. "Most of us aren't heroes. Heroes tend to end up dead, so perhaps its better not to be one. Have you ever noticed everyone says they love a hero, but secretly enjoy watching him fall? I think deep down, people hate heroes, Horse, at least live ones that is. People don't want to be reminded they aren't heroic and brave. They don't want to have to think about how ordinary they really are. People are not unique snowflakes, Horse and heroes remind them of this."

Clark listened to his words, but they struck something deep inside of him as wrong. Slowly Clark got to his feet and moved towards the window. He stopped and looked out at the stars.

"I-I don't accept that, Julian,' Clark quietly said. "Yes, the world is an unfair place, but that doesn't mean we should just accept it. To do that is to accept the strong preying on the weak. It gives in to fear and makes us all helpless, the weak dominated by the strong. Heroes remind us of our better angels. They remind us that we can make a difference. That one man or woman can stand up for what is right. They remind us that each and every individual matters. Do heroes always win? No, but they keep fighting for something better than just jungle law. At least … they should."

Julian sat back and just stared at Clark. He took a long drink from his glass before replying.

"I think you put too much faith in heroes, my friend. The world is what it is and all the heroes in it aren't going to change that. Anyone that tells you differently is trying to sell you something. There are no better angels, Horse, just like the meek won't inherit the Earth anytime soon or ever. Heroes make people believe in things that aren't true. They certainly aren't the only ones, either. Belief is based on nothing but false hopes and unfulfilled promises. A better world is the pitch and it's been used since the dawn of time. All those people are still waiting, aren't they? They'll go to their graves still waiting."

"I used to believe in that better world too, Julian." Clark quietly said. He didn't turn, just continued to look at the stars.

"We all did once,' Julian replied. "Now some of us know better, don't we?"

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda Waller sat at her desk going over the latest reports. The details of the Paris train station attack were still coming in. Nemesis was rumored to be either heading there or already in the city. What his connection to it all was she still wasn't sure. She didn't believe in coincidences. It meant she had a debacle on her hands. Nemesis and whoever he was working with were becoming too much of a distraction. Now the Russians and the Council were involved too. It was time to end this.

She picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. It was answered on the third ring.

"It's Waller. I want the team ready in twenty-four hours,' she said.

The person on the other end of the line asked a question.

"Termination." She answered and then hung up.

* * *

><p>Paris – Late<p>

Clark couldn't sleep. Julian had already turned in and Suzette was still on her date. As he stood on the small terrace, Clark couldn't keep his mind off his discussion earlier with Julian. He was deeply troubled by it. A better world, that had been his fight once, but he'd walked away. He'd turned away from the world and tried to put it all behind him. Even as he argued with Julian, some of his words sounded hollow to him.

He had near limitless powers once, yet in the end they hadn't been enough. The world only got worse and then it visited his doorstep. When Lois and Jonathan were murdered, he lost what little hope he had. He had faith in nothing except the world was unfair. He just accepted that the world was what it was and there was nothing he could do about it. Yet, tonight, listening to Julian say it out loud, Clark found himself resisting. He'd thought those same thoughts, but hearing them from someone else drove home just how much he still didn't want to believe them. He slowly realized he still wanted to believe in that better tomorrow. Maybe what he needed was his own hero to remind him of who he used to be.

His phone rang and surprised him. He pulled it from his pocket and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Diana?"

"Um, yeah, I just wanted to, well, talk to you.' She seemed to fumble to say.

"It's good to hear your voice,' he replied.

"Yours too."

They were both silent for a moment. They just seemed content to be in touch with each other. As the moment stretched into another, the silence seemed to get a bit uncomfortable. He could hear her playing with the cord on the phone she was using. She had called, but he wondered if she even knew why she called. It was still good just to hear her voice.

"So, um, Kal? What are you wearing?"

His laugh echoed through the Paris night.


	32. Chapter 32

Heroes

_'As you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary.'_

Ernest Hemingway

Paris

The Pont Royal Bridge ran over the Seine connecting the Left and Right Banks of Paris. Standing in the center of it watching the slow progress of the barges was Clark. The morning sun reflected off the water as another day began. He'd been out walking for hours. He found himself here in the middle. Thoughts and doubts had been running through his mind. He was still looking for some answers. One part of his dilemma seemed to be solving itself.

A smile came to his lips as he thought of Diana. She was like those rays of sunlight, breaking through the shadows that seemed to surround him these days. He had realized while they were talking on the phone she was in his life for good now. That was just a fact without question any more. He seriously doubted she would accept any excuse from him to the contrary. That was okay too.

Clark had felt guilty when he first thought of this. He wondered if he was just replacing Lois with Diana, but now realized how foolish that was. It was an insult to both women really. Just as Lois hadn't been a replacement for Lana, Diana wasn't a replacement for Lois. They were two unique, but totally different women. He loved Lois and always would, but it seemed life wasn't going to stop just because she was gone.

He could continue pretending or face the truth. He was in love with Diana. It didn't diminish what he had with Lois anymore than Lois had diminished what he had with Lana. It was just another chapter in his life. Each woman and his relationship with them were so totally different. He was different as well. With Lana he was a young man experiencing love for the first time. With Lois he was a young adult taking that giant step into marriage.

Now there was Diana.

He was an adult or at least he was supposed to be. They had both lost more than a little of their innocence. The years had taught them both lessons, some bitter along with the sweet. Neither of them was perfect by any measure. She certainly seemed set in her ways and was used to getting her way he thought. He knew he wasn't exactly the shining knight that usually gets the Princess either.

It wasn't a case of them being soul mates destined to find each other. It was more two people with gaps in their lives that had found someone that helped fill them. It certainly wasn't a perfect fit, but when you realize you're in love with someone you're willing to make it fit or at least work on it. Those little differences could be worked on, as long as the larger issue of being in love was there.

Being with Diana also raised some questions he hadn't wanted to face. Clark raised his hand up to the sun and looked at the way the rays played against his tan skin. There was something that he hadn't told anyone, not even Lois. They were coming back, his powers. It had been five years now since he first noticed the signs. He wasn't aging like normal people. He never got sick, not even a cold. When he first noticed it, he'd just put it down to his being a Kryptonian, but as time went on he began to suspect it was more than that.

The baby had pushed those thoughts away for a time, but with each passing year he could feel it deep inside of him. Clark would lay awake in bed with Lois and it was almost as if he could sense his body regenerating itself, reordering things back to the way they used to be. It was a slow process, but unceasing. He knew there would come a time when he couldn't hide it any longer from Lois, but then that awful day happened.

He lifted his pant leg and looked at his calf. There wasn't a mark on it. The gunshot wounds were gone, completely healed. It seemed the process was accelerating. He still didn't have the strength or the ability to fly, but his body was getting stronger. He was turning back into the Man of Steel. One day sooner rather than later he would be faced with the choice of becoming Superman again. Being with Diana would just added to the pressure to go back.

Heroes.

Clark had never set out to be one and never really thought of himself as one. He wasn't the Champion of his people and Gods. He hadn't suffered some horrible wrong that drove him as so many of the other heroes had. He hadn't even started out to be a hero. It just sort of snowballed.

His heroes growing up hadn't been caped avengers or dashing, action packed men of daring. His first heroes had been his adopted parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent. As he grew older and experienced a bit of the world others would be added to the list. He remembered reading To Kill a Mockingbird in high school and admiring Atticus Finch. The line from the book that had always stuck with Clark was when Atticus was asked why he was defending Tom Robinson.

_'The main reason is that if I didn't, I couldn't hold my head up in town.'_

Looking back he realized the book was a bit hackneyed and not quite the great novel he'd thought it was then, but that line still resonated with him. When he'd started helping people it was as simply because he could. How could he just stand by and watch when he could help so easily?

It had been a movie that gave him his other hero, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Sitting in the old classic movie theater, Clark had watched a young Jimmy Stewart and it seemed like he was talking to him.

"_That lady that stands for liberty. Take a look at this country through her eyes if you really want to see something. And you won't just see scenery; you'll see the whole parade of what Man's carved out for himself, after centuries of fighting. Fighting for something better than just jungle law, fighting so's he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created, no matter what his race, color, or creed. That's what you'd see. There's no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties."_

He watched him gallantly fight against all the odds and felt inspired by him.

"_I guess this is just another lost cause, Mr. Paine. All you people don't know about lost causes. Mr. Paine does. He said once they were the only causes worth fighting for, and he fought for them once, for the only reason any man ever fights for them: Because of one plain simple rule: Love thy neighbor. And in this world today, full of hatred, a man who knows that one rule has a great trust. You know that rule, Mr. Paine. And I loved you for it just as my father did, and you know that you fight for the lost causes harder than for any others. Yes, you even die for them, like a man we both know, Mr. Paine."_

He realized now it was a sappy, naïve movie, but back then it spoke to what he believed. All the rules and laws in the world didn't matter if, behind them, they didn't have a little bit of plain, ordinary, everyday kindness and a - a little lookin' out for the other fella, too.

As he grew older other heroes presented themselves. Through Jonathan Kent he learned of Robert Kennedy. He remembered watching his brother Ted's eulogy on YouTube. The words had stayed with him.

_"Some believe there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills. Yet many of the world's great movements, of thought and action, have flowed from the work of a single man. A young monk began the Protestant reformation: a young general extended an empire from Macedonia to the borders of the Earth: a young woman reclaimed the territory of France: and it was a young Italian explorer who discovered the New World, and the 32 year-old Thomas Jefferson who proclaimed that 'all men are created equal.'_

_"These men moved the world, and so can we all. Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."_

Clark had never sought greatness, but rather aimed to be one of those that helped send those ripples of hope out to others.

They say idealism is only for the young. Clark, like many had lost much of his as the years went by. The world seemed to little notice or care what happened and with each passing year it became easier to turn away. It became easier to ignore what was happening and insulate his family in a quiet suburban community. He told himself the world was what it was and there was nothing he could do about it. He was just one man after all.

He learned too late if you don't stand against the tide it eventually overwhelms you no matter where you hide. It you're not part of those ripples of hope then you're part of the problem. There was still no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties. It seemed he'd forgotten about looking out for the other fella.

Superman.

He'd been so young. So many had pinned their hopes and dreams on him back then. Because of his amazing abilities it seemed there was nothing he couldn't do. Each year the responsibilities seemed to grow. The spotlight he was under was unlike anything one could image. He was turned into a symbol and a savior, not just for Metropolis but the whole world. His every word was scrutinized and dissected in the media looking for ways to use him to one side or the others advantage.

"SAVE US SUPERMAN!"

That became the drumbeat that echoed wherever he went. In the end, he couldn't. He couldn't even save those he loved most in the world. He'd failed them all, Lois, Jonathan, Lana, Jimmy and too many others to count. It seemed he just couldn't be the hero that everyone needed him to be. So he stopped being a hero all together.

Now it was all coming back.

As he gazed out at the water he knew he couldn't be who he was. He also knew he couldn't just stand by and not do anything either. He still wanted to believe in that better world. Others were better suited for wearing the capes and costumes. They seemed to be able to handle it far better than he had. Bruce, Diana, so many others seemed to have an ability to deal with it that Clark had never acquired.

It was one of the amazing things he admired about Diana. She was always Wonder Woman. She had no secret identity to fall back on when things got too overwhelming. Every moment of every day those around her looked to her. She handled it all these years with such grace and composure. She truly was special, Clark thought. She was always a hero.

Being with her meant he was going to have to face that future where he would regain his lost powers. If he was with her, he couldn't ignore them or stand by as she continued the fight. Clark knew if he had those abilities he had to use them to help, to look out for the other fella. He just wasn't sure he could do it with a bull's eye on his chest again.

He wasn't sure he could be Superman.


	33. Chapter 33

A thousand little compromises

Washington

Amanda Waller sat behind her desk as her assistant went over the morning briefings and highlighted what needed her attention. The assistant was calm, cool and efficient. Her name was Naomi. Waller knew her last name but never used it. Naomi had been working for Amanda for fifteen years. She never gave her opinions unless asked and then was always blunt and to the point. Her feelings never entered the discussion, just as Amanda's didn't. Feelings tended to sidetrack matters and take them away from the larger goals.

The larger goals, those were what Amanda told herself it was all about. How those goals were met was subject to interpretation. She had moved up the ladder by getting results and not burdening her superiors with the details. No one ever wanted to know the details. Just like in a restaurant, they only cared about the finished product, not the sordid, dirty little details about what went on in the kitchen.

Early on she understood this. Her superiors like to think they were moral people. They liked to think there were lines they wouldn't cross. They wanted plausible deniability if it came to that. It was just deniability for the public, but for their own private self. They didn't want to think of themselves as the sort that could do those things. It was a strange Escher world they lived in, where others would do it for them, but they never spoke of it. They would promote people like Amanda for doing the very things they said they would never do. It was so they could rationalize it to themselves that they hadn't crossed the lines. It let them sleep at night.

Amanda had lines once she thought she would never cross. Each year she would get closer to those lines, blurring them but telling herself she hadn't crossed them. When she'd first started she used to look at her superiors with contempt, but after all these years she looked at them with understanding. Principles and ideals only get you so far. The world forces compromises on all of us. Day after day it keeps challenging those principles and ideals. It's unrelenting. Things become more complicated and the rationalizations become easier.

All around us we see others taking short cuts, shaving the edges, crossing the lines and being rewarded for it. From the hotel maid that doesn't change the sheets for one extra day to the hedge fun manager that uses some gossip he heard at a party to enrich his private account, but not is customers; it seems to be the way of the world. Little lies, little compromises we all make but try and tell ourselves it wasn't really that important. We try and justify those compromises as just doing business and that the larger goal is the thing that matters.

As she listened to Naomi finish with the update, Amanda knew she was standing at one of those lines. The whole Nemesis mess needed to be cleaned up. She was getting pressure from all sides to handle it. The message was clear, they wanted it neutralized and would accept collateral damage. These were more compromises, the use of soft words to ease the sting. The real message that no one would ever say was simple. Kill Nemesis and anyone else you need to, to end it.

The problem facing Amanda was she knew something none of the others seemed to notice. It was right in the reports, but no one else had put it together. Twelve years had dimmed many memories but not hers. She hadn't even needed to see the name, only the picture to know him. Reading the name had just confirmed it.

Kal Kent.

Superman.

Amanda glanced up as Naomi finished. This was the point where she usually asked a few questions and specified which files she would want for later review. Instead she found herself asking a question she hadn't planned on asking.

"Naomi, do you remember Superman?"

The other woman seemed surprised by the question. At first she didn't know quite what to say. Amanda thought she detected a slight blush as Naomi finally answered.

"Yes."

"What did you think of him?" Amanda asked. Naomi gave her a strange look, as if the question didn't really need an answer. Amanda thought she saw something in the other woman's eye, a certain twinkle as if she were picturing him in her mind. A smile came to her lips as she answered.

"He's a hero."

Amanda noted Naomi didn't use the past tense.

"Thank you, that's all for now."

Naomi got up and quietly left the room.

Amanda sat behind her desk staring at the Nemesis file. Everyone wanted it finished. She wondered if they would think a hero was acceptable collateral damage? Of course she would never know, because they didn't want to know. It was one of those lines they wanted her to cross for them. Her team was already on the way to Paris, but knowing Nemesis and the possible outside variables, Amanda wasn't quite sure that would be enough. She picked up the phone and dialed three numbers. Each conversation was brief and to the point. The kill order had been given. It was open season on Nemesis and everyone involved with him. It was open season on Kal Kent, the man that used to be Superman.

Another line had been crossed. Another compromise had been made. Others would sleep soundly tonight, safe in their deniability. Amanda knew she wouldn't.

* * *

><p>The Watchtower<p>

Bruce was using the computers to correlate some data. He'd detected interesting patterns and wanted to see if the data matched his thoughts. He had the nagging feeling he was missing something, some small detail. While it processed he observed his teammates. A group of them had just returned from a mission and were discussing who would write the report. One volunteered and the others quickly thanked her and exited. As he sat there, Bruce noticed the change in Diana immediately.

"So I take it things are working out?' He ventured. She looked up from writing the mission summary and smiled at him.

"You could say that,' she replied.

"Sarajevo?"

She knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was.

"How did you know?"

"I read the reports,' he said. "I figured out who it was from the descriptions. Add to that you were out of communications for several days and a few other things and it was the logic conclusion."

"Always the detective,' she mused. "Yes, it was Kal, Bruce. He was shot at the Opera House and I stayed with him and sort of nursed him back to health."

"Sort of?"

"He's Kryptonian, remember?" She said. "His body heals at a rather remarkable rate."

This brought to mind something Bruce had wanted to talk to Diana about. He'd seen her at the funeral, but that wasn't the place or time. He wasn't sure how she was going to take the news, but he felt he owed her the truth. He could also see she was in love; so it was something she was going to have to face sooner or later.

"About that, Diana", Bruce began. "Jonn and I have been working on a theory about Clark. I think its something you'll find interesting."

"He's regaining his powers." She said it so matter of factly it actually caught Bruce off guard.

"You knew?"

"Not for sure,' Diana admitted. "I guess it didn't occur to me until I saw him heal so fast from the gunshot wounds. It got me thinking about the beating we saw him take in Phuket. He should have been in the hospital but when I saw him a short time later he didn't have a mark on him."

"Do you think he even realizes it?" Bruce asked.

Diana turned away from the monitor and faced Bruce.

"We haven't discussed it,' she replied. "I would think if we have he must have noticed it by now."

Bruce glanced around and saw they were the only two in the room so he felt more comfortable talking. He moved over and took a seat across from Diana.

"Have you thought about what this could mean, Diana?"

"For him, yes,' she said. "As for the larger picture, no."

"He's Superman, Diana, that's sort of a big deal."

"No, Bruce, he's not Superman,' Diana countered. "You've seen him, can you honestly say he's the same man?"

"No,' Bruce admitted. He pictured Clark the last time he saw him in Berlin. He looked the same, but everything about him seemed different. He wasn't that man anymore.

"Why haven't you discussed it with him, Diana?" Bruce asked. "I'm not trying to pry, but this may effect all of us."

"No, I don't think it does,' she replied. "At least not yet. He's suffered so much, Bruce. I think he's just starting to heal. He has so much guilt over what's happened. He doesn't seem himself as a hero anymore."

"He never did,' Bruce said with a small smile.

"Why do you say that?" Diana asked.

"I've known him longer than you have, Princess,' Bruce explained. "We met when we were both just starting and even then I could tell he was different. It shocked me at first how little anger I sensed from him. You have to understand, the few heroes I'd met were fighters, like myself. They had something that motivated them and drove them to do what we do. He didn't. It took a while to figure out, but then it hit me, he did it because he could. I always thought that was the key to Clark."

Diana seemed to consider this. She knew her own origins as a warrior and champion of her Gods and people. She also knew what drove many of the other members, but she had never considered why Kal did it. When she'd first emerged into this world, he was already world famous. He was Superman.

As this registered in her mind, Kal's words took on a deeper meaning. She remembered his protest before the Opera House how he wasn't a hero, she was. He had all those abilities and powers yet he couldn't save those closest to him. How many times had he said he couldn't save anyone, she thought.

"He knew this all along,' Diana said. "He must have known his powers would return. The guilt that they saved him again while Lois and his son died must be horrible. He couldn't save anyone. He said that to me and I didn't understand at the time. I thought it was just the fact that he lost his wife and child, but it's deeper than that, Bruce. Kal's lost everyone he's ever cared for, from his birth parents and his home world, to the Kents, to all his friends and finally his family, yet what we think of as his amazing abilities wasn't able to save anyone, except him."

"Pale Horse, that nickname seems very appropriate if you think about it."

"And death follows with him,' Diana whispered. She finally understood the full implication of the nickname.

"That's a lot of guilt to walk about with,' Bruce softly said.

"And there's nothing I can do."

Diana glumly said as she slumped back in her chair.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because some things you have to save yourself from,' Diana sadly stated. "He has to work this out on his own if he's ever going to be the man he should be,Bruce, it has to be him that works it out. I can't save him this time."

"That must be tough for you,' Bruce asked.

"It is,' Diana admitted.

"Especially since you're in love with him."

"That doesn't help,' Diana offered. She crossed her arms in front of her, hating feeling so helpless. "I hate to admit this but when I heard about that shootout in Paris I flew over to rescue him. I wasn't even thinking, I just walked outside and took off from your mansion."

"Wow, you've got it bad,' Bruce said with a smile.

"I did stop myself,' Diana said in her own defense. "I called him though."

"Yeah, you're in love,' Bruce chuckled. Something she said seemed to stick in his brain. "Why would you think to rescue him from that train station shoot-out anyway?"

"He was there,' she replied. "He was the target."

Bruce's expression suddenly went grim. He was up off his chair and over to the computer terminal in an instant.

"Stupid! How did I not see that,' he grumbled. "I must be getting old to miss something so obvious!"

"What? What is it, Bruce?"

He turned and looked at her.

"Do you still have his number?"

"Yes."

"Call him, now."

"What? Why?"

"Cause they're coming for him, Diana,' Bruce stated. "All of them."

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Clark was just about to enter the apartment building where Julian and Suzette were, when his phone rang. He stopped on the street and pulled it out. A smile came to his lips as he saw whom it was. Never thought she'd be the calling type, he mused. He was just about to answer it, when he felt something pressed against his back. From recent experience, he knew it was gun. Slowly a hand reached out and pressed the end button on his phone before tossing it into the sewer.

"I don't think we need any outside disturbances, Mr. Kent."

Clark slowly turned and looked at the man holding the gun on him.

"Nemesis."

"That's right,' Tom said. "Now why don't we go upstairs and have a little chat with your friends, the whore and the pimp?"

"Why don't you leave them out of this, Tom,' Clark replied. He saw the surprised register on Nemesis' face. "Yes, I know your name, Tresser. I know all about you."

"Good, than you know I would love to kill you right now,' Tom said. "You took something from me that was mine, Kent. For that you deserve a bullet but that's going to have to wait."

"She was never yours, Tom. She's a woman, not a possession."

"Shut up!"

Nemesis smacked Clark across the face with the butt of the gun. Before Clark could respond, Tom jammed it back into his gut.

"Try it,' Nemesis hissed. "Give me a reason to blow a hole through you right here!"

The two men stood very close. Their eyes were locked, almost waiting for the other to make a move. Finally Tom took a step back. He glanced up and down the street and then gestured with the gun.

"Upstairs. Move!"

Slowly Clark turned and started up the stairs. Nemesis was right behind him.


	34. Chapter 34

At the Water's Edge

Paris

It wasn't like the movies, he thought. There was no dramatic hands in the air long walk as the tempo increased of the strings playing. The steps didn't creak ominously with each footfall as if to drive home his impending doom. It was so ordinary yet alive, like a cloth had been run across a window you hadn't even realized was dirty. It was all so real, so immediate and so ordinary.

The steps were ferroconcrete under his feet. Almost imperceptibly shallow grooves marked each one as a faint testament to all the foot traffic that had gone before. His eyes moved over everything, yet nothing at the same time. Details registered with no apparent significances. The walls were a faded yellow, now almost a light brown. Here and there paint flecked off revealing an eggshell blue layer beneath.

They reached the first landing and stepped onto the carpet. It was a dirty mat gray and there was no telling what color it had originally been. Everything seemed muted, washed out, as if the world had grown weary of this little corner in it. There was a sense of the inevitable as they continued on up the stairs. The mind plays tricks on the condemned, but there seemed to be no exit.

The night was swallowing the day.

No Atheists in foxholes came to his mind and for the first time he thought he understood. It had nothing to do with faith or religion, but a blind fear of dying. You would reach for anything, any flicker of hope that would get you through. Deus ex machina, anything that would swoop down and change the coarse of reality. You didn't care what it was, as long as you kept on living.

His life didn't flash before his eyes like in the movies either. That would be too neat, too clean and living didn't work like that. There was no synopsis, not perfect little summing up of him on the back paperback cover of his life. What he got was a moment. Just a random moment pulled from the hopper of his mind like B27 at the bingo parlor on Saturday. It meant no more or no less than others, but it was what it was.

* * *

><p>Late summer and the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. The sky was a pallet of reds, oranges and yellows, smeared with streaks of billowing white. The fields of wheat stretched out in every direction, almost up to his shoulders. He couldn't have been more than 11 or 12. He was running the way you do when nothing seems better in the world than running. He wasn't running towards something or away from anything, just running for the sheer joy of it.<p>

It was the world of his youth. The world of possibilities and dreams, where anything still seemed possible and the future couldn't get here fast enough. It was a world of running as far and as fast as you could until that pain in your side made you stop. Where your dog was your best pal and shared in all your imaginary adventures, each ending conveniently just as Ma rang the dinner bell.

Clark could see it all again and every detail was so clear. He could feel the shafts of wheat brushing against his hands as he charged towards the house. The trickles of sweat rolling down his back and the panting of his dog running at his side. He stopped just on the edge of the field, breathing hard, and he looked down at home. He could see Ma standing on the porch like out of a scene in a Hopper painting come to life. She wore a summer dress covered with an apron, a smile brightening her lips. Music was playing, Nat King Cole's smooth voice crooning "Sweet Loraine' and it seemed as light as a feather drifting on the breeze. The Bougainvillea was in full bloom lining the walkway. The yellow paint on the house was as bright as an egg yoke.

Her eyes were turned towards the barn as Pa came walking out. He was wiping his hands and face after a long day in the fields, but the sight of Ma brought a smile to his face. Taking the steps two at a time, Pa kissed her and then picked her up and twirled her around in his arms. She gave a girlish laugh and then slid down the front of his body. They began to sway and then slow dance to the music.

Remembering it, Clark realized they were probably close to the age he was now. Back then they had seemed impossibility old to him. Anyone over 21 seemed ancient to his young mind, yet as he stood in the wheat fields watching them, he somehow realized for the first time this wasn't Ma and Pa he was looking at. This was Jonathan and Martha, a couple in love. He was seeing one of those private moments they rarely showed the world or him. They suddenly became people in his young mind, not just his parents.

He'd sat down right there on the edge of the field just watching them. His dog licked his face and he wrapped his arms around best pal, but kept watching. For some reason it seemed important to his young mind to see them like this. He hadn't been able to process it all that day, but over the years he grew to understand. Martha and Jonathan weren't just his parents; they had lives of their own. He never doubted they loved him, but now understood that loved stemmed from their love for each other. They each had this complete world of experiences separated from being his parents. They had gone through the same trials and tribulations, the same victories and defeats as everyone else. they had finally found each other. They had so much love for each other, it was easy for them to share it with him.

It hit him like a freight train rolling down hill. For all the death around him, it was only one of the strands that wove through the tapestry of his life. A quieter, but just as powerful thread was love. Jor-El and Lara sacrificed everything out of love so their son would live. Martha and Jonathan Kent had taken in that baby and raised him as their own out of love. A parade of people flashed through his mind from Lois to Lana to Jimmy. They had all believed in him and loved him. Death by Nemesis' gun suddenly held no fear for Clark. With the death of Lois and Jonathan he had experienced something far worse, a world without love. All his life he'd been surrounded by those he loved and that loved him. He realized just how incredibly lucky he'd been.

It was only when he found himself alone that the world shattered into pieces. He'd lost them all and thought with them the love was gone forever. Guilt, remorse and despair seemed to follow him all around the globe. A world without love was a world without meaning. Death seemed to at least offer an end to that hell.

Clark suddenly realized that when he was at the bottom he'd reached out with that simple note to Diana. It was a lifeline tossed as he floundered in the stormy seas. The second note and the phone calls were his unconscious way of acknowledging what his heart already knew. It was a silent plea for help in the darkness. Love was still possible even with all the death that had gone before. He would always owe her a debt he could never repay. It would have been so easy for Diana to turn away, to let him flounder on his own after the way he treated her. But she hadn't, she held on and let him start the climb back up. There was love in his life again.

As they walked towards the apartment door, Clark felt the tears in his eyes. Without love there had been nothing, but that was all changed now. She had held on, but it was up to him to make the rest of the climb. He stopped in front of the door and wiped the tears away. Nemesis jammed the gun into his back.

"What are you daydreaming? Get your head in the game, Kent,' he snapped. "Don't think for a moment I won't shoot you. I will."

As he reached for the door, Clark didn't even turn to acknowledge Nemesis.

"Your threats don't matter any more." That was all he said as they entered the apartment.

Julian was standing with the phone up to his ear as Nemesis pushed Clark inside and closed the door. Julian looked at them for a moment.

"Something has come up, I'll call you back,' he said. He hung up and then smiled at Clark and Tom. "My what a dramatic entrance. Mr. Tresser, I presume or do you prefer Nemesis?"

"Shut up and sit down,' Tom replied. He glanced around the room quickly and the turned back to Julian. "Where's the whore?"

"Right here."

From the bedroom, Suzette stepped out, a gun in her hand. She pointed it at Nemesis and eyed him with a cold unblinking gaze.

"Put the gun down or I'll shoot him,' Tom snapped, pressing the gun to Clark's head.

"I think he's bluffing,' Julian offered. He sat down to watch, his eyes shifting back and forth between Tom and Suzette. The man on the edge of the building, Julian thought, would one shove be enough? Suzette slowly walked closer, her hand never shaking as she held the gun pointed directly at Tom's face.

"I'm not bluffing, honey! Now put the gun down or he's dead!"

Suzette seemed to consider his words for a moment. She still didn't lower the gun.

"I'll kill him!" Tom shouted. "He'll be dead just like that! Now put the gun down!"

"No."

"I'm not bluffing, damn it!"

"I don't really care if you are or not,' Suzette informed him.

"I'll kill him!" Tom spat out at her.

"Perhaps, but I'll be alive and I'm the one with the gun pointed at you, Mr. Nemesis,' she informed him. She gave Tom a small, cold smile. "The question you want to ask yourself is do you think I'm bluffing?"

"It's a gamble, isn't it,' Nemesis?" Julian said. "I would bet she's bluffing, but then she isn't pointing the gun at me. What would you bet, Nemesis?"

Tom looked back and forth between Julian and Suzette. She had moved closer, just out of his reach. It wasn't going the way Tom planned. Something told him she wasn't bluffing. If he tried to switch targets from Clark to her, she would pull the trigger long before he could. At this range she wouldn't miss.

The matter was taken out of both their hands. In one stunningly fast move, Clark twisted out from in front of Tom, grabbing his gun hand while reaching for Suzette. In the next moment he was holding both guns.

"No one is shooting anyone if I can help it,' Clark informed them.

"Green, double zero on the roulette wheel,' Julian observed. "Everyone loses."

"Not this time,' Clark replied. He could feel Suzette's eyes on him, but he didn't look at her. Tom seemed stunned for a moment but then lunged towards him. He threw a punch, but Clark blocked it and sent one of his own straight at Tom's chin. He went down under its force.

"Don't try that again, Tom. I won't pull my punch the next time."

"And the hero's revealed,' Julian whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "So Horse, you seem like a man with something on your mind? Care to share it with the rest of us?'

Clark helped Tom up and deposited him on the couch. Suzette was still staring at Clark, but she didn't say a word. She silently moved over to where Julian was now sitting. Clark stuck the guns in his jacket pocket and looked at the three of them.

"We all have something in common, we're being hunted,' Clark explained. "The Russians, the Council and probably the Agency are out for one or all of us. I'm wanted for murdering the Senator's son. Julian, you and Suzette are wanted for helping me."

"Frasier killed him,' Tom replied. "It was a set up to frame both of us."

"Oh, that's good,' Julian said with a laugh. "He's dead, so there's no way to prove it, is there? I like the way you think, Nemesis."

"I have a confession from a Council man,' Tom said, as he rubbed his jaw. "Frasier was working for them. Kent's right about one thing, the council has people here in Paris gunning for me, but not just me, the three of you."

Julian turned and looked at Suzette.

"I told you we couldn't trust Max,' he said. "He's probably dead by now."

"Good,' she replied.

"It doesn't really matter now,' Clark interrupted. "The reality is they are here. You know the Agency, Tom, would they send people for us?"

"They already have."

"So whether we're innocent or guilty doesn't matter to them." Clark ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think. "The Russians aren't just going to give up after the train station, either."

"If I know Waller, she's put a bounty on us,' Tom informed them. "Anyone with a gun will be hunting us by now."

"Amanda,' Julian mused. "She always did like overkill."

Tom looked at him in surprise.

"You know her?"

"I know a lot of people,' Julian replied. "What matters right now, is they are probably already on their way. We need time."

"How much time?" Clark asked.

"Time enough to turn this to our advantage,' Julian said.

"Give them him,' Suzette suggested, pointing at Tom. "Throw the dogs some meat and that will give us time to flee."

"You bitch,' Tom snarled.

"You wound me,' Suzette replied. Julian was looking at Tom.

"A rabbit would give the dogs something to chase,' he said.

"No."

It was Clark speaking again.

"He has the proof of my innocence. If he can get it to a friend of mine, he should be able to clear our names. He can probably get the Agency and Waller off our backs too."

"Who is his shining knight, Horse? Why would he get involved in this?" Julian asked.

"Well, let's just say he's the best at what he does,' Clark replied with a smile. "He's a knight, I don't know about shining part though."

"That still leaves us without a rabbit for the dogs.' Suzette pointed out.

"I'll be the rabbit,' Clark offered.

"You? Why?" Suzette asked. The look on her face said plainly she didn't understand this at all. "You have the guns, the power. Send Nemesis instead, let them kill him if they want. We can be long gone by the time they do."

There was a sad look in Clark's eyes as he gazed at her.

"I could give you a thousand reasons why I can't do that, Suzette, but I doubt they'd make any sense of you, so let's just say I'm tired of running. This ends here and now."

"Still a hero, huh, Kent?" Tom said with a chuckle. "You want to play decoy, I'm fine with that."

"Just do your part, Tom, clear our names."

"Is this about her?" Tom had to ask. "Do you think some noble gesture is going to win her over? You're a fool, Kent."

"It's not about her, Tom, it's about me,' Clark replied. "It's about a million things you'd never understand, but she would. You think I took her away from you, but you're wrong. You never understood her, so you never really had her."

"Whatever your reason it doesn't matter,' Julian said. "I'm perfectly happy with you playing the rabbit. I should be able to send those hunting us your way with just a few phone calls."

"Good, then the three of you get some place safe until it's over,' Clark replied. "Tom, give me your phone."

"Why?"

"I need to call that friend now." Nemesis slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tossed it to him. Clark took out the two guns and laid them on the table in front of Tom and Suzette.

* * *

><p>The Watchtower<p>

Bruce was devouring all the latest data, trying to pinpoint just exactly where the various sides would be. Diana hadn't been able to wait and was already transporting down to Paris. He had seen the fear in her eyes and didn't try and stop her. He promise to relay any new information to her as soon as he had anything. His phone went off.

"Hello?"

"Bruce, it's Clark."

"Damn it, Clark, where have you been? Diana's been frantically calling you,' Bruce replied. "You're in danger, serious danger. There are hit squads all over Paris looking for you and the others."

"I know, but that's not why I'm calling,' Clark said. "Nemesis has proof I'm innocent of the Senator's son's murder. I need you to meet him and use it. Do what you do best Bruce."

"All right, but what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to give Nemesis, Julian and Suzette time to get someplace safe,' Clark informed him.

"That's a bad idea,' Bruce replied. "I can be down there in moments and Diana's already on the way. Wait for us to help."

"Not this time, my friend,' Clark replied.

"What am I supposed to tell Diana, Clark?"

There was a long pause.

"Tell her I'll see her again - on this side or the other."


	35. Chapter 35

The One that Got Away

Paris – the Latin Quarter

He stood on the corner and like in some cheap paperback novel lit a cigarette. He certainly wasn't a smoker. He hated it actually, but desperately needed something to do with his hands. He was frightened and there was no reason not to admit it, if only to himself. He might never wear a symbol on his chest again, but now he had a bull's-eye painted on his back. They were probably coming. It was really just a matter of time.

As he inhaled the smoke and let it burn it's way down his throat and into his lungs he reflected on his choice. It was stupid and dangerous, but he felt in his heart it was the right thing to do. Sometimes a man isn't just defined by what he says, but what he does. In the end belief in something is only as strong as how much you're willing to risk. It's always easier to start wars than to fight them.

Clark had been running from everything and everyone. Fear of so many things seemed to haunt him. Now that had to stop. He'd come to realize the opposite of love wasn't hate, it was fear. Fear immobilizes you, cuts you off from taking chances and isolates you. Fear slowly wraps you in a cocoon until nothing gets in. You become like a walking statue moving through life without joy or sorrow, without pain or heartache or love. It was an existence worse than death, for at least in death it all stopped. He couldn't live another day like that. Tonight it would stop one way or another.

As with so many things it felt as if a sacrifice had to be made. He couldn't ask someone else to make it for him. A choice had to be made and a risk had to be taken. If he was ever going to shed his cocoon of fear he was going to have to do this himself. He couldn't ask someone else to fight his battles anymore. If time was needed, he would be the one to provide it. He told himself this wasn't about being a hero and he believed it wasn't. This was a choice of what type of man he was going to be. It was as simple as wanting to look in the mirror in the morning and not being ashamed of what he saw.

If there had been another way, Clark would have gladly taken it. He had no desire to put himself in harm's way, but what was the alternative? Julian and Suzette, an old man and a young woman? Tresser? The man who could prove Clark's innocence? He wouldn't sacrifice someone else like that, so Clark became the logical choice. A lot had changed, but a man's name still meant something in Clark's world. Whether it was Kal or Clark, as long as it was attached to Kent he owed it to himself and those that raised him to see it cleared.

He flicked the cigarette away and glanced at his watch. It was time to get moving. He glanced up and down the wide avenue alert for any possible threat. If he trusted Julian on anything it was to point the guns away from Julian. Hopefully by now, Tresser was meeting with Bruce and the process of clearing his name would start. Clark smiled to himself. He could just picture Diana in his mind. He knew she would hate this. She would hopefully understand, but she would still hate it. For all the calm, controlled poise she presented to the world, he knew Diana was a woman of deep passions. He'd certainly seen more of those from both ends of the spectrum then most. He was also absolutely sure if he saw her again, she would slap him, hard. Now he just had to make sure she got that chance. He started walking.

* * *

><p>Paris - The Jardin du Carrousel<p>

Diana hung in the air a thousand feet up. Below her Bruce was meeting with Tom and with her exceptional hearing she could make out every word. Her mind was elsewhere. She was angry with men in general, but one in particular, Kal. She tried calling him again, but still there was no answer. Why did men have to be so pig headed and stupid? Why did the one she fell in love with have to be the most infuriating of all? She just wanted to get her hands on him and slap some sense into him.

Diana prayed to her Gods that she would get the chance. She looked out over the city wondering where he was and what danger he was facing. A strange, unfamiliar fear seemed to possess her. A feeling of helplessness that sent a chill through her bones unlike any winter storm she'd ever encountered was almost overwhelming. Let him be all right, she whispered, let him be all right.

Intellectually she understood why she thought he was doing what he was doing. She could think of a hundred reasons why it was the right thing, yet all those reasons paled in comparison to her desire for him to be safe. The thought of losing him now was unimaginable. The world might see her as this demi-Goddess descended among them, but at her core, Diana was a woman. At the moment she was a woman in love. She would do anything and everything in her power to make sure the man that had captured her heart like no other was safe. She just wanted to see him again.

A comment from below caught her attention and she began to sink towards the ground. Tom was talking about Clark. Diana felt her anger flare. She landed silently behind some trees. She could hear Bruce and Tom arguing.

"I hope he dies."

The words came from Tom and the bitterness was so plain. It was too much for Diana to stomach. She stepped out and walked towards them.

"How can you say that? He never did anything to you, Tom. What happened to you?" She asked. Nemesis turned and looked at her. He was surprised, but the pain was clear on his face.

"Wonder Woman."

The words nearly stuck in his throat. She was as beautiful as ever and this only reminded him of what he'd lost. No, not lost, Tom thought, stolen. Kent had stolen her from him.

"I'm surprised you can ask me that, Diana." Tom replied. "We were happy before he came back into the picture, remember? He ruined that."

"No, Tom, we weren't happy,' Diana stated. "I wasn't happy. I just didn't know it or want to admit it then."

"That's a lie!" He shouted. She was standing five feet away from him, just staring into his eyes.

"No, the lie was pretending things were okay with us,' she explained. "I'd been unhappy for a long time. I know now that what we had wasn't real. I'm sorry I let it get as far as it did, Tom. For that I apologize."

"How can you say that, Diana?" He protested. "I love you! I worshipped you!"

Diana looked at him for a moment and then just sadly shook her head.

"You never saw me, Tom, never really."

"How can you say that?" He asked. "I suppose he does, right?"

"Yes, he does,' she quietly replied.

"Cause he's a hero.' Tom snidely remarked.

"No, it has nothing to do with it." Diana stepped closer, holding Tom's gaze. Before he even realized it she slipped her lasso gently around his wrist.

"Who am I, Tom?"

"You're Wonder Woman."

The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. He glanced down as she took the lasso off. He looked at her in confusion, not understanding what had just happened.

"In this uniform or out of it, you always saw me as Wonder Woman, Tom,' Diana explained. "He always sees me as Diana."

"But I loved you,' Tom weakly said.

"You loved the idea of me, Tom, not me, never me,' Diana replied. The edge of sadness was plain in her voice. "I guess I let myself believe that you were different from the others, that you saw the real me, but now I know I was just fooling myself. I'd been disappointed before, so I thought I could settle for less. I can't, Tom, I shouldn't have to. What you didn't see is I'm just like everyone else. I want the same things they do, someone to love me for me. I finally found that person."

Tom shook his head no to all her words, not accepting them, not listening to what she was saying to him.

"You tell yourself whatever it takes, Diana,' he spat out. "He's not special, he never was. You talk about me not seeing you, but do you really see him? He's not Superman, Diana. You have this schoolgirl crush on who he used to be or what you thought he was, that's all. When they killed him tonight, you'll find out it was all a lie. He's just like everyone else."

Diana's hand flew, smacking Tom across the face and knocking him to the ground. She took a step towards him, her anger threatening to boil over. Bruce spoke up for the first time.

"Diana!"

She glanced at Bruce and stopped. The fire in her eyes was plain, but he held her gaze. Batman glanced towards the city and then looked at Diana again.

"He's still out there."

Diana slowly nodded in understanding. Tom held his cheek as he looked up at her. She turned her attention back to him.

"You keep saying you love me, but you wish someone I love to die,' Diana hissed at him. "You know nothing about love and taint the word by letting it come out of your mouth."

Before she was tempted to do more, Diana lifted off and didn't look back. Tom watched her disappear and then slowly got to his feet. He looked at Batman.

"I guess it's your turn, huh?" Tom said. "Go ahead, lay into me too."

"No, I don't have to. You've been a big enough asshole already tonight,' Bruce replied. 'You don't even realize what you lost. But then you don't even realize what you might have had. Let's go, you've got debt to pay, Nemesis."

"Who? To Kent?" Tom snapped.

"No, to me,' Batman replied. "I just saved your life, now let's go."

With a silent signal they transported away from the gardens.

* * *

><p>Paris – The Latin Quarter<p>

He was on edge. Clark constantly scanned everything trying to see where it would come from. The Russians would come at him like a freight train, guns blazing with little care for civilians that got in the way. The Council's men would come at him head on too. Honor dictated they would show themselves before killing him. It was the Agency people he was most concerned with. If they could take him out with a headshot from a block away they would do it. They would slip up behind him and put a knife in his back and never show their faces. They were spies, contract killers and he was just another job to them. They could be all around him at this very minute and he would never know.

The screech of tires behind him signaled it was starting. Bullets chewed up the pavement and bore down on him. A black sedan had turned the corner and was trying to weave its way through the traffic, while guns fired from the windows.

"Everyone! Get down now!" He shouted as loud as he could. Clark began to run, as the pedestrians dove for cover. Windows shattered spraying glass everywhere. He kept moving but noticed not all the pedestrians had fled or hid in panic. Three men stood further up the sidewalk. Assassins, he just knew. Putting on a burst of speed to stay ahead of the bullets, Clark dove into the first man just as he was reaching under his coat. He managed to grab the man's hand before he could pull his gun and used him as a battering ram against the other two. In one fluid motion Clark knocked them down and then rolled, using them as cover as the doors on the black sedan opened. Russians poured out of the car, spraying bullets wildly at anything that moved. Clark could hear the screams as innocent bystanders once again got caught between him and the killers.

No more, he thought, no more innocent deaths because of me. With two powerful punches he knocked out assassins and picked up the third as a human shield. The man tried to fire his gun, but Clark grabbed his hand and squeezed with all his might. The man gave a strangled scream as the bones crushed under the force. Clark tossed him to the side and sprinted down the street, bullets whizzing all around him.

* * *

><p>High over the city, Diana heard the gunfire. She dove straight for it, fearing what she would find. She could hear sirens racing towards the scene, but she would get there first. As she descended she saw something out of an old wild west show. Men stood in the street firing guns at everything and everyone. She thought she saw Clark racing away and rage filled her. She dropped out of the sky like an atom bomb, landing hard in the middle of the street. The pavement shuddered and cracked under the force.<p>

Her mind was totally focused on one thing, these men were trying to kill the man she loved. She would make them pay for that. Her bracelets deflected bullet after bullet as she moved swiftly towards the Russians. A second and third car had joined the first and they were all firing now. She reached the first black sedan and in one motion lifted it off the ground, tossing it back into the others. She pressed forward and tore the door off one of the cars and threw it at the gunmen. Diana was a wrecking ball crashing through everything and anything in her way. Guns were ripped to pieces in her hands and the men wielding them were sent flying.

This was the champion of the Amazons, their greatest warrior in all her glory. She was a warrior against which this army had no answer. She was like an elemental being descended to this Earthly realm to bring justice to the wicked. She was a woman in love punishing those that tried to kill it. She was Wonder Woman in all her raw power.

The third Russian car was damaged, but still functional. The driver saw what was happening and put it in reverse to get away from her. He gunned it, but then was stopped by a huge lurch and everything got quiet for a moment. As he turned forward he saw Diana had punched through the hood of the car and was ripping the engine out. She tossed it aside as if it were a twig. Taking the front end of the car in her hands she lifted it high above the ground and then slammed it back down to the pavement. The tires blew under the impact. She lifted it again and this time tore it in half. The killers tumbled to the ground as twisted, screaming pieces of metal rained down around them. They looked up in fear as she stepped closer. Her lasso shot out and captured them. With a flick of her wrist they went flying against the nearest building. The impact was brutal and they slumped the pavement unconscious.

Shots rang out from above. Diana turned to see snipers on the rooftops. She glanced into the distance and saw Kal still running, but several men were hot on his heels. It seemed a whole squad was on his tail. Several of the bullets seemed to find their target and he stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet and keep running.

"NO!" Diana screamed and flew towards the rooftops. Sirens pierced the night as the police finally arrived. They started to get out of their cars, but gunfire pinned them down. They tried returning fire, but they were outgunned and out manned. A rumbled went through the night air and then part of the building's top floor was ripped away. The snipers went flying as the roof under their feet was torn away. They scrambled to fire at her, but Diana blocked every shot as she tossed the fragments of the building to the side. She made short work of them and then handled their unconscious bodies over to the police. They were asking all sorts of questions but she didn't have time for them now. She saw Kal run towards a kiosk and then disappear. The men chasing him followed. She turned and grabbed one of the police officers.

"What is that and where does it lead?" She demanded, pointing to the kiosk.

"Th-That's the-the sewers, ma'am." She was flying towards the kiosk in the next moment. She had almost reached it when the street buckled under the force of a blast. The kiosk disintegrated before her eyes and cut off any further pursuit. No, she told herself, she wasn't going to leave him down there by himself. She wasn't going to lose him, not now! Digging her fingers into the pavement, Diana began to rip her way downward into the bowels of the city. No force on earth was going to stop her tonight.

* * *

><p>Clark was breathing hard as he stumbled down the steps into the darkness. He was bleeding from several places, but nothing vital had been hit. It had done damage though and he was having trouble breathing. Down and down he went, but he could hear the sound of footsteps following. Further away he heard a rumble like thunder, but he couldn't stop and think about it. Keep moving he told himself. He pressed on, but stumbled and fell the rest of he way down the stairs. He landed in water and the smell nearly overwhelmed him.<p>

He'd reached the sewers of Paris. Huge underground tunnels stretched out in front and behind him. He managed to get to his feet and started moving into the darkness. It was a different world unknown to most, yet it lies just under our feet. It was a huge city of waterfalls and rushing rivers where tides ebb and flow as in the world above. It was something out of Jules Verne, this hidden network of passages underground. Built in the 1850's and 60's by Baron Haussmann on the commission of Napoleon III they were a massive series of tunnels and tributaries. Paris had another Paris under herself; a Paris of sewers; which has its streets, its crossings, its squares, its blind alleys, its arteries, and its circulation, which is slime, minus the human form. It was some sort of primordial mirror world of darkness and shadows.

Tonight Clark hoped it would be his salvation. He wasn't a gunman or killer so he did the only thing he could do, he ran. He heard the men behind him cursing him, the smell, the sewers, everything. They fired several shots in each direction hoping to hit him. He thought in the darkness they would get lost and give up. This was not to be, as they had come better prepared then he had. Flashlights came on and the beams began to sweep over the sewer tunnels. Rats and other assorted things that were best left a mystery scurried away from the light.

The rumble from above kept growing louder. Clark inched his way along the wall, taking the first side tunnel and slipping into the darkness. His breathing was labored as the blood continued to leak from several wounds. He was pretty sure one of the bullets had nicked his lung and it was starting to fill up with blood. Time, it became both his ally and enemy. The longer he could keep them chasing him the better chance there was of this all being over. But the longer this went on the weaker he would get. He had to face the very real prospect that he would never make it out of here alive.

In the darkness he inched forward, feeling his way along the slime covered brick walls. He couldn't see anything, except the sporadic beams of the flashlights behind him. He kept moving further and further into the darkness. Then his foot gave way under him and he went tumbling down and then over a waterfall. He splashed down hard several meters below and by the time he got to his feet he could hear the men shouting and running towards his location. He hurt all over, but knew he had to keep going. Limping, he started down the tunnel and back into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Paris – The Outskirts<p>

The Agency had a safe house nestled in amongst the select and very expensive neighborhoods of the Auteuil. The operation going on tonight was being coordinated out of this house. These weren't normally field agents, but support personal in constant communications with Washington. From the street it looked like just another mansion in a row of mansions. Usually it was a place for gathering information, electronic spying and coordinating logistics, but it had been pressed into service for tonight. A man named Bennett had flown in from London to run things, but things weren't going as planned. He paced back and forth behind three young assistants.

"What's the team status?" He asked again. "Where is the target?"

"He's gone into the sewers,' a young woman relayed to him. "The team is following."

"Damn it, he's one man it shouldn't be this hard to kill him,' Bennett grumbled in frustration. "Any word on Tresser or the other two?"

"No sir."

The third assistant turned and held his hand over his mike.

"Ms. Waller is calling, asking for an update." The young man said. "What should I tell her?"

Bennett stopped pacing for a moment and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Tell her its still in progress and I'll call her as soon as it's over."

"Yes sir."

"Have the got him yet?"

"No sir."

"Damn it!"

From somewhere else in the house, a doorbell rang. Bennett turned and glanced at the surveillance monitor. It showed a young woman standing at the door. She was wearing a hat so her face couldn't be seen, but she had on what looked like a cocktail dress and carrying a shoulder purse.

"Now what the hell is this?" Bennett wondered aloud. "Jennings, go see what she wants and get rid of her. Collins, Harper, keep at it. I want this guy run to ground and fast."

"Yes sir."

Jennings got up and quickly left room and headed for the front door. He was young, in his mid-twenties and was dressed as someone that lived in this sort of mansion would. The doorbell rang again just as he reached it. He opened the door to find a gorgeous young woman standing there.

"Oh, thank God, I was afraid no one was home.' She said with a smile of relief.

"Can I help you?" Jennings asked.

"My car broke down, I was wondering if I could use the phone?"

"I'm sorry, our phones are out of order,' he lamely offered, trying to get rid of her. She looked into his eyes and he saw for the first time she was some sort of Asian and European mix. She was exotic looking and quite beautiful.

"Not even a mobile?" She pleaded. "Please, I'm stuck and don't know what to do. Help me, please?"

There was something in the way she said the words that seemed to tug at the young man's heart. She made him feel like he was the only person in the world that could help her. She made him feel important.

"I guess you could use mine,' he offered bashfully.

"Oh, thank you,' she said with a devastating smile. "You're a hero.'

He actually blushed at this and then fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. He had to look away for just a second to get it out, but then smiled as he pulled the phone from his pants and held it out.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." Suzette smiled and then fired one shot from the silencer she'd taken from her bag. The bullet hit him right between the eyes and he was dead before he hit the floor. "Now you're a dead hero."

She stepped over his body and scanned the front rooms of the mansion. She turned as Julian came up the front stairs. He glanced briefly at the dead man on the floor and then stepped over him. He closed the door and looked at Suzette.

"Another glorious death for the cause,' he said with a smile. "Let's find the others."

The two of them moved silently into the house, Suzette taking the lead, her gun at the ready. They moved up the stairs towards the second floor and could just make out the soft voices of people talking. Julian nodded to Suzette and then slipped a little further back.

Bennett was concentrating on the monitors and communications with his team, when the door opened.

"Did you get rid of her, Jennings?" He asked without looking.

"No."

The voice was soft and silky, and Bennett turned to see Suzette standing in the doorway holding a gun on him. After a moment, Julian came up behind her and leaned against the doorframe. He looked over the room and then turned his attention back to Bennett.

"Who the hell are you?" Bennett asked, straightening up. He instinctively reached for his gun, but Suzette stopped him with a warning shot.

"I don't like to waste bullets so don't try that again,' she calmly said.

The two assistants didn't know what to do and looked to Bennett for guidance.

"Okay, just stay calm," said Bennett, holding his hands up. "I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement. Do you want money? Is that it?"

Suzette briefly looked at Julian. He nodded.

"Yes, money would be very nice,' Suzette replied.

"Fine, I can get you money, no problem,' Bennett offered.

"There is one other thing I'd like,' Julian said.

"What? Name it,' Bennett replied.

"Get Amanda Waller on the line. I'd like to talk to her."

This caught Bennett off guard and he fell back on his training.

"I don't know who or what you're talking about,' Bennett replied.

Julian sighed and then spoke to Suzette.

"Shoot him."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Bennett started to protest, but he was cut off by Suzette's bullet. As he slumped to the floor, Julian addressed the two frightened assistants.

"It seems you've been promoted,' he cheerfully told them. "Now one of you is going to connect me with Amanda Waller, it's just a matter of whether we have to shoot the other to do it."

"And I'm really starting to enjoy shooting people,' Suzette added.

Harper, the young female assistant spoke up.

"I'll get Ms. Waller on the line."

Julian smiled, but Suzette frowned a bit at this.

"See, "Julian said. "Things go so much smoother when you do what we ask."

"We only really need one of them, Julian,' Suzette suggested. "I could still shoot the other one."

"Ah, the impatience of youth,' Julian mused. "Perhaps later, my dear, we might need both of them, just in case."

* * *

><p>Paris – The Sewers<p>

Down, down, down, Clark went, navigating the slippery channels. He fell several times, but kept moving. The flashlights seemed to be gaining on him. The rumble from above seemed to be getting closer too. He guessed there were at least eight in the team coming for him and didn't like the odds. It would be a risk, but he had to try and lessen the odds. Stepping into one of the side passages he silently waited for them. They were spread out, cautiously checking each tributary. He watched their flashlights slowly move over the walls, ceiling and water.

These were the oldest parts of the sewer and some of the brick and mortar had come loose from the constant erosion of he water and years. Digging his fingers into the wall, he began prying one of the bricks from its place. His fingers were bleeding by the time he got it loose. Calming his breathing as best he could, Clark tossed the brick towards one of the far side tunnels. It hit against the wall and then skidded several times before dropping into the water.

He watched from his hiding place as the team silently signaled each other and began to move towards the source of the sound. The water was waist deep at this level, so it was slow going. Clark waited, trying to remain quiet as they moved by him one by one. They were just starting to enter the side tunnel when he made his move towards the last member. He lunged at the man, grabbing his wrist and taking him down under the water. The splash caused the rest of the team to turn. Their flashlights frantically scanned the murky brown water but it was impossible to see below the surface. One moment passed and then another. Suddenly a body floated to the surface. It was the man from their team.

* * *

><p>Diana had reached the sewer and was moving as quickly as she could in the darkness. Suddenly two flashlights focused on her and gunfire followed. She deflected it and dealt with the gunmen. As their bodies drifted unconsciously down stream, she picked up one of their flashlights and continued. In the distance she head gunfire below her. Diana took the most direct path towards it.<p> 


	36. Chapter 36

Ill Wind Blow Away

Paris – The Sewers

Sands, the Agency's team leader could feel the situation rapidly slipping way. He wasn't the ironic sort or he might have appreciated the fact that they were in a sewer and their mission was turning to shit. The team was down to five members and they were dangerously spread out. Their own bullets had taken out one team member. The ancient stonewalls sent every miss ricocheting back at them. Communications with the surface had been cut off. Whether that was because they were too deep underground or something was happening on the surface he didn't know. As he slowly edged his way through the waist deep water, moving his flashlight methodically back and forth against the darkness, he knew the target was somewhere close. It shouldn't be this hard to kill one unarmed man he thought. If all that wasn't bad enough, the thunder from above was getting closer.

A strangled scream came from his left and Sands pivoted and shown his flashlight only to see ripples on the water. Another team member floated to the surface moments later. As the man drifted towards him, Sands stopped the body and checked. He was unconscious, but not dead. None of the team members taken out so far had been killed. It made no sense, who is this guy, Sands wondered?

He could hear the other team members splashing towards him. They regrouped realizing they were being hunted instead of the other way around. Silent signals were passed between them. They moved so their backs were together, guns at the ready. Silence, except for the swirl of water surrounded them in the darkness. It seemed the thunder had stopped above them. They began to move in unison towards a cavernous central lower chamber with eight smaller chambers running off it in the distance. Their fallen teammates' flashlights floated along next to them, bobbing haphazardly in the water, their beams randomly illuminating the damp, ancient walls of the sewer. Sands flicked his communicator, but there was still no contact with the outside world. He thumbed a switch to contact the other members of the team on the higher levels, but there was only static.

"Shit." He softly cursed as he switched the communicator off.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

It was a small gray room in a nondescript building on a little used side street. Amanda Waller stood behind two Agency communications operatives, while her assistant Naomi sat waiting to carry out any of her instructions. Small, tight, controlled, this was the way Amanda liked things. She wanted to be in total control of any operation that affected her. She had picked Bennett to coordinate things in Paris, but if there had been more time she would have flown people directly from Washington to handle logistics, but time was off the essences.

Time was the enemy on this operation. With each passing minute the odds were shifting away from success. The team had raided the apartment, but Grinka, Suzette, Tresser and Kent were gone. An anonymous tip had given them Kent's location. Amanda had few illusions on whom the tip had come from. Now the team had missed and was chasing him through the sewers of Paris. They hadn't heard anything from Bennett and the clock was ticking.

A burst of static came over the monitor and one of the operatives turned and mouthed the word Paris to Amanda.

"Bennett? What the hell is happening there?" She demanded.

"Hello Amanda, good to hear your voice again."

Amanda stopped pacing at he sound of the voice and turned towards the monitor.

"Grinka? Where is Bennett?"

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

Julian looked at the speaker and then down at Bennett's body.

"I'm afraid he's indisposed, Amanda. You'll have to talk to me."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda signaled to her assistant, Naomi for something to write on. The woman moved over and held out a tablet of paper for her. Amanda hastily wrote _second __team__ to __safe__ house __now!_ She underlined it and stared hard at Naomi. The other woman nodded and moved off to find to get a secure line.

"So are you all there, Julian? Nemesis, Kent?" She asked.

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

Julian glanced over at Suzette and smiled. She was holding the gun steady and level on the two assistants. With a roll of her eyes, she just shook her head silently. Julian looked back at the speaker.

"If you're going to play me, Amanda, we're not going to get anywhere," Julian said. "Your team is currently chasing Mr. Kent through the sewers, as you know. Not having any success I would imagine. Strange man, Mr. Kent, hard to kill as your team is finding out."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

The small room was a hive of activity now as Amanda silently coordinated her response to these knew developments. She needed to keep Julian on the line until the second team got to the house.

"And Nemesis?" She asked.

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

He pointed to Suzette and indicated one of the surveillance monitors. She silently moved over and began adjusting knobs.

"Disagreeable man, your Nemesis,' Julian said. "Afraid he's not here either, dear. Oh, you will be glad to know he had found proof of his innocence. Your man Frasier it turns out was behind the whole thing. How embarrassing for you, Amanda, especially if it got out."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda stopped pacing and looked at the monitor from which Julian's voice emerged. She could almost imagine him smiling on the other end. She looked at Naomi and mouthed _how long?_ Naomi checked several readouts and then held up her hand showing five fingers. Amanda nodded.

"Yes, I'm familiar with Frasier,' Amanda said. "Well, I guess that changes things, doesn't it."

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

Julian chuckled and sat down. He was carrying a cane and twirled it slowly between his fingers. He looked over at Suzette.

"Games." He quietly said. Suzette turned towards the two assistants and shot one of them.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

A loud explosion came over the speaker and everyone in the room jumped.

"Julian? What the hell was that?" Amanda shouted. The others in the room exchanged nervous looks, but didn't say anything. "Julian?"

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

"That was someone dying, Amanda,' Julian informed her. "One of your young assistants, unfortunately. "

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda's face grew stern as she listened to his words.

"Damn it, Grinka, that was totally unnecessary! What do you want?"

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

"Your full attention." He replied.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"You have it, now what do you want?"

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

"You by now have sent another team to this location,' Julian explained. "Stop them."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

The staff looked at Amanda in surprise.

"Another team? I don't know what you're talking about Julian,' she replied.

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

Julian sighed and shook his head. He glanced at Suzette again and nodded. She pulled the trigger killing the last of the assistants.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

The explosion reverberated through the small room.

"You son of a bitch!" Amanda snarled.

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

"I'm an old man, Amanda, but I'm not a fool,' Julian said. "I was doing this before you were out of diapers; so don't treat me like an amateur. Call your second team off, now."

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda stood looking at the speaker. There was a hard, cold look in her eyes. Her fingers curled up into fists. She didn't want to give into him.

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

"Suzette can start shooting random people on the street if you wish, Amanda?' Julian offered.

"Yes, I'd be more than happy to." Suzette said, speaking for the first time. She got up and moved over to the window and opened it. "Oh, there's a party just down the way. Lots of targets to pick from."

"It's up to you, Amanda,' Julian said.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

"All right,' Amanda hissed. She signaled to her assistant Naomi. "I'm calling off the second team, Julian. Have Suzette close the window. Now tell me what you want?"

* * *

><p>Paris - Neighborhood of the Auteuil<p>

Julian smiled and nodded to Suzette. She looked longingly out the window and the slowly closed it.

"I'm glad you're being reasonable, Amanda,' Julian happily said. "Now things will go much smoother. Let's start the negotiations, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Paris – The Sewers<p>

Diana slogged through the knee-deep water, scanning the flashlight over every surface. The gunfire had stopped and she had to slow down her search for Kal. She was angry, not just at the assassins, but at Kal too. He just had to pick the sewers, she thought. With each step she could feel the putrid water slosh over the tops of her boots and seep down inside. She was definitely going to hit him when she found him, she thought. Once she made sure he was already of course.

There were so many tunnels and tributaries; it was a maze she realized. As she rounded a corner, a body floated towards her. Diana was on guard for a trick, but as the body neared she saw the man was unconscious. She checked to see if he was alive and felt a faint pulse. She couldn't help smiling. This meant Kal was still alive. With a renewed scene of hope, Diana continued on.

* * *

><p>Lower in the sewers, Sands and his team had reached the large central chamber. The smell was almost too much here. Sands held up his hand to signal to the team to stop. Eight channels fed into this room and Kent could be in any one of them. Silently he pointed to three of them and motioned to members of his team to check them out. He and the last member would cover them. As the three men moved through the waist deep water, Sands had an uneasy feeling. Something was wrong about this place. The smell, it was different than the rest of the sewer, almost a gas smell.<p>

A small bit of something flashed by and up one of the tunnels. The team member reacted instinctively and pulled the trigger. An explosion rocked them, knocking them off their feet. The team member closest to the side tunnel caught on fire and screamed in pain. Gas, Sands cursed; there was a huge build up of gas in this part of the sewer. If they fired their weapons they would blow themselves up along with their target.

"Holster your weapons!" He shouted. "This place is filled with gas!"

"That's right, it is."

The team turned to see Clark step out from one of the side tunnels. He was soaking weapon and they could see blood dripping from several wounds, but he still presented a rather imposing figure.

"Kill him!" Sands shouted, pulling his knife. Before they could step forward, Clark held up a wood match.

"Safety matches, waterproof," he informed them. With a flick of his thumb, the red tip of the match burst into flames. He tossed it towards them and dove back into the side tunnel.

"Move!" Sands shouted, as the air around them caught fire and exploded.

* * *

><p>Diana heard and felt the explosion as it shook the ground under her feet. Floating up out of the water, she began to move rapidly towards it. Gunfire came from two spots in front of her but she didn't even slow down. Deflecting the bullets she backhanded the shooters into the walls and picked up speed. The echoes kept coming and she grew nervous the closer she got. Down, down, down she went, flying as fast as she could in the underground passages. The air around her heated up, but she continued until she came across the bodies floating in the putrid water.<p>

"Kal!" She shouted

Flashlights moved chaotically on the surface of the water, casting their beams erratically all around the chamber. Some of the team members were still moving, but her focus was singular. Diana landed in the water and began to slog through it searching for him. The flashlight in her hand moved quickly over every surface and side channel. Finally she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned. He was standing, leaning against the wall smiling at her. His clothes were burnt and she could see blood, but her heart soared at the sight of him. He looked as if he could barely stand. They stood just looking at each other. He took the first step.

"So come here often?' He said, his smile getting bigger. She wanted to scream and laugh, as a thousand different emotions rushed through her. Her feet moved on their own, gaining speed as she rushed towards him. He started to fall, but she caught him. They were in each other's arms in the next moment. He pulled her to him, kissing her as if he never wanted to stop kissing her. She returned it, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms. One kiss turned into another and another, each more intense. It was movement beside them that finally caused her to pull away. Sands slowly rose out of the water, holding a large, cruel looking knife in his hands.

"You son of a bitch!" He growled and lunged at Clark. Diana caught him and lifted him off the ground. An overwhelming anger washed over her as she drew back her fist. Sands struggled, but couldn't break her grip. He threw the knife at Clark, just barely missing him. Diana was just about to unleash a powerful blow, when a hand grabbed her wrist and stop her. She turned and saw Clark as holding on to her. She looked at him.

"He's not worth it,' Clark said to her. She looked back at the man, the killer she thought.

"No, he's not," she replied and then tossed the man away with a flick of her wrist. She turned back to Clark and he smiled at her.

"My hero."

She hit him, hard.

"Ow!" He stumbled and leaned against the brick wall.

"Do you know what you put me through, you idiot!" She growled at him. She hit him again for good measure.

"You know I'm injured here,' he said, flinching against her blows.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me,' she replied, pulling him close.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

><p>Gotham<p>

Bruce and Tom stood on a rooftop having transported from Paris. They were meeting Batman's contact. Tom was in a foul mood as he paced the rooftop. Bruce watched him silently for several minutes.

"You need to let it go,' Bruce finally said. Tom turned and looked at him, the anger in his eyes.

"More advice? What would you know anything about losing someone?"

"Quite a bit, actually,' Bruce said softly. "I'm saying this because I think you're basically a good man, Nemesis. You can let this eat you up and take over your life or you can let it go. You're not a boy whose life has been destroyed before his eyes; you're a man who lost out on a woman. She's an exceptional woman, I grant you, but she made her choice. You have to accept it or you're never going to get past this."

Tom looked at him, with tears in his eyes.

"You don't know what it's like,' Tom replied. "I was in love with her."

"You think you're the first man that's been in love with her? You're not," Bruce said. "Some relationships aren't meant for forever. They run their course and if you try and hold onto them you ruin what you once had. It's hard and it hurts, but you have to accept it."

Tom stood looking at Batman not knowing what to say. A door opened on the rooftop and a man stepped out. He was an older man, with a head full of gray hair. He stopped several feet away from them and looked from Tom to Batman.

"Batman."

"Faraday." Bruce replied. "Nemesis, this is King Faraday. He's one of the good guys. He'll keep you safe and help you clear your names."

"Faraday?" Tom said, looking at the man. "You're with the government."

"Sort of, but we can talk about that later,' Faraday said. "We should get going."

Tom nodded and started to follow him. He stopped and turned to Batman. He held out his hand. Bruce shook it and then Tom left. Bruce moved over to the edge of the building and looked out over the city. He would check to make sure Clark and Diana were all right, but he wanted to be here just a little while longer. His city stretched out in front of him. His life was so tied to this place in so many ways. The city had created him in a manner of speaking.

"Quite a speech,' a voice said behind him. 'I wasn't expecting that from you."

He turned to see Selina slip down and land several feet from him. Even after all these years she was still as lovely as ever.

"I hope it reaches him,' Bruce replied. "I do think he's a good man at his core."

She walked over and stopped beside him, looking out at the city.

"So that stuff about relationships and how not all of them are meant for forever?"

"Some relationships, yes."

"And then there are those that never end, aren't there?" She said. "Like you and this city."

"That would be one of them,' he replied, looking at her. Selina lifted her goggles and held his gaze.

"And us?"

He turned towards her and brushed his fingers down her slender arm.

"I can't give any guarantees Selina, you know that,' he quietly said to her. "But Vic's death did make me realize something. Helena almost missed her chance to tell him how she felt. She finally did just before the end. I don't want to miss my chance. I love you, Selina, I probably always have."

She stepped forward and kissed him.

"I love you too, Bruce,' she whispered and kissed him again. "No guarantees."

"No guarantees."

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Clark slowly opened his eyes and looked around. His last memory was of the sewer. The adrenaline had worn off and he had collapsed into Diana's arms. Now he found himself on a bed in what looked like a hotel room. It was a large rectangular room, the walls a muted bluish green stucco he guessed. A window was on his right, set in a thick dark brown frame with lace curtains. It was slightly ajar and a gentle breeze could just be felt. He shifted to take in the rest of the room, absently noticing he wasn't wearing any clothes. The bed was king size, with a padded headboard covered in a gold material with small intricate fleur de lys in the same color of green as the walls. A white muslin comforter was on top of him and he could feel the cool cotton sheets against his skin. The room had very little ornamentation, one print of Van Gogh's Sunflowers hung on the wall. There was a sturdy looking dark wood bedside table with a brass lamp on top of it. A table and two chairs of similar wood were the only other furniture in the room. He smiled as he notice two china dishes on the table, along with cloth napkins, silverware, bottles of water and glasses.

He was just starting to sit up, when the door to what he guessed was the bathroom opened and Diana stepped out. She smiled at him.

"Good, you're finally awake,' she said.

He noticed she was dressed completely different than he'd ever remembered seeing her. She had on a pair of jeans with no shoes and what he took to be a man's sleeveless undershirt. The undershirt fit rather tightly to her body and he could easily tell she wore nothing underneath it.

"This is getting to be a habit,' he offered. "Waking up in hotel rooms with you. Nice shirt, by the way."

Diana glanced down at it.

"I didn't have anything to wear and the gift shop downstairs didn't have anything in my size,' she replied. "It's yours."

"You can keep it,' he said with a smile.

"You don't think it's too tight, do you?" She asked, moving towards him. He smiled even wider now.

"You still have a lot to learn about men, Diana. Tight, tight is good, very good."

She gave him a look, but let it go.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Better,' he replied. "Where are we?"

"A hotel in Paris,' she informed him. "You've been out for almost a whole day."

He looked down to see some of the wounds on his body were still fresh but already healing.

"You're becoming quite the nurse,' he said. "Thank you."

"I had help this time,' Diana replied. "I called Kimiyo and she checked you out. There was a lot of blood and you were bleeding internally. With your powers coming back, though, she was able to stop the bleeding and your body is doing the rest."

She sat down next to him on the bed. He looked at her in surprise.

"You know?"

"About your powers, yes,' she said with a nod. "Since Sarajevo."

He looked down at the sheets.

"They haven't all come back, not yet."

"I know,' she replied.

"So what has been happening since I've been out?" He asked.

"Quite a bit actually,' she informed him. "Your name has been cleared and a man named Frasier has been implicated in the murders of the Senator's son and another agent. He's dead now, so that looks like it's over. There was been several arrests in Tokyo and Moscow that seem related, but I haven't looked too deeply into them."

"Nemesis?"

She was absently running her fingers over his skin along the points that were still healing. He saw something flash over her features for just a moment.

"He's back in the fold at the Agency it seems,' she replied.

"Julian and Suzette?"

"Disappeared,' she offered. "Bruce thinks they cut a deal with Amanda Waller, but he's still looking into it."

"I should have known they'd land on their feet,' he mused. "So it's really over."

He laid back, looking at the ceiling as this sank in. He'd been running for what seemed like so long, he found it hard to grasp that he didn't have to anymore.

"Kal?"

"Yeah?"

"Wh-What now?" She softly asked. He looked up at her and could see she was nervous and a bit anxious about his reply.

"How do you mean?"

"You're powers are returning,' she explained. "You're going to be Superman again. Have you thought about that and what you're going to do?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It is still going to be awhile before they all return, but even then I'm not sure I'll be Superman anymore, Diana. I know I can't just turn away from it this time, but I haven't worked it all out yet. I'm sort of focusing on the short term rather than the long term at this point."

"Oh?" She said, looking into his eyes.

"Yeah, there's this woman,' he said with a smile. "I'm head over heels in love with her."

"Oh really?" Diana said, smiling and moving closer to him. "So tell me all about her, Kal.'

He ran his hand along her bare arm and eased her closer to him. His fingers intertwined with hers and he kissed her.

"Well, she's amazing, of course,' he offered.

"Of course,' she repeated, smiling at this.

"A bit set in her ways, though, stubborn and bossy, too,' he teased.

"Really? Stubborn and bossy?" Diana repeated, giving his fingers a rather hard squeeze.

"But beautiful,' he quickly added, feeling her grip tighten. "She's beautiful, smart, funny, compassionate, caring and so many wonderful things. I mentioned beautiful, didn't I?'

"Yes, " Diana replied with a smile, easing her grip on his hand. "You sound very lucky to find someone so amazing.'

"Oh, I am, I am,' he said to her.

"You know I've found someone too,' Diana stated.

"Is that so? Well, congratulations,' Clark teased. "Must be a great guy, huh?"

"Well,' Diana said, rolling her eyes. "He's handsome, that's true, but he's also infuriating, stubborn, rude and at times incredibly stupid."

It was his turn to loose his smile.

"Oh, really? How do you put up with him?" He sarcastically asked.

"What can I do?" Diana said with a shrug. "I've fallen in love with him."

He pulled her down next to him on the bed and leaned over her, kissing her lips.

"So I guess you're stuck with him, huh?"

"Yes,' she whispered, kissing him.

"Yeah, I know how that feels,' he said, between kisses. "I figure there's nothing else for me to do but marry this woman. You think she'll say yes?"

Diana had a radiant smile on her lips as she looked up at him.

"You might have to persuade her, Kal,' she said with a small giggle.

"I can do that,' he replied, leaning in to kiss her again.

* * *

><p>Cote D'Azur – Two weeks later<p>

The small contingent of sunbathers couldn't help glancing up as the young woman walked out of the water. Her golden skin and jet black hair were set off by a white two-piece bathing suit. She was stunning to look at. Every eye followed her as she leisurely walked up to where her towel and things were and sat down. Suzette smiled as she dried herself off and looked out at the Mediterranean. She liked it here but they would be moving on very soon. She casually glanced up at the beachfront house and knew Julian and Amanda Waller were meeting. She left those matters to him and concentrated on the moment.

The young French politician was coming later to take her to dinner. Suzette suspected he would ask her to marry him. She hadn't decided on her answer yet, but could see the benefits of being his wife. His family had money and his career was just starting to take off. As his wife she would have position and luxury, two things she liked very much. Now that her past had been wiped clean by Amanda Waller, she was free to do anything she wanted. Perhaps she would marry him, she thought.

Thinking of the politician, though, made her think of another man, Kal. They had left Paris without seeing him. She just assumed him would be able to take care of himself. As she sat thinking about him, she found she missed him and wanted him again. It was such a strange emotion for her to want someone. Being in his arms, sharing a bed with him had been the most enjoyable time she could ever remember. It had all been about the moment, the sensations, and the desire that overwhelmed them both. It was like a drug and she found she still carved it. She was sure she would see him again.

Now though, there was her immediate future. A smile came to her full lips as she remembered she had a little task to complete later. So much had changed in less than a year. New sensations and thrills had opened up to her and she fully embraced them. Perhaps it was for the best she was no longer Suzette and had reverted to her given name, Simone. A new life deserved a new name, she thought. Laying down and closing her eyes, she smiled, letting the sun warm her skin. So many possibilities were just waiting for her to seize them.

* * *

><p>Julian stood on a deck overlooking the beach, smiling. Amanda Waller was next to him and their business was just about done.<p>

"So the money has been transferred?" He asked.

"Yes, as per your instructions,' she replied. "You have your new passports and documents already. The Agency expects you to live up to your part of the bargain, Julian."

"Please, Amanda, you are always so serous,' he replied. "You've been able to solve the Senator's son's murder, roll up many in the Council and even help the Russians with some of their organized crime problem. I'm sure your superiors have been quite pleased with the deal we've made."

"Yes, but there is still the matter of the man living down the beach,' she pointed out. "You've both been paid, we expect results, Julian. We have a contract."

"Suzette, I mean, Simone will take care of it later tonight after her date,' Julian replied. "Your man will be dead as per our agreement. I think she's looking forward to it, actually.'

Amanda looked at him for a moment and then just shook her head. She glanced down at Suzette stretched out on the beach below them.

"Your daughter is some piece of work, Julian,' Amanda said. "She's a stone cold killer, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Suzette makes a father proud,' he replied with a smile.


	37. Chapter 37

Break on Through

Gotham

Sitting in front of the monitors, Bruce scanned through all the latest data. It was the end of another long night and he could feel it in his bones. The news had been good concerning Clark. His name was cleared and the media had already moved on to the next story. Bruce had tried contacting Diana, but had been informed she was unreachable unless it was an emergency. He took that to mean she was with Clark. He tactfully left them alone.

Nemesis had come in from the cold and it appeared the Agency was taking him back. Bruce had concerns about that, but Tom had made his decision. As far as Julian and Suzette went, they had disappeared. Over the proceeding days Bruce had noticed every file, every mention of them and their pasts had been deleted from the global system. That said government, high-end spooks, so it appeared they had made a deal. It seemed for now the overseas problems were over.

That left Gotham and the continuing struggle. Things were a little better, but just a little. They could easily disintegrate back into the chaos that seemed to define the city. It was more important than ever that someone was watching over everything, but time wasn't an ally anymore.

He heard the door open from the mansion and then soft footsteps moving swiftly down the stairs. Sense memory kicked in and he knew it was Dick. For just a moment Bruce felt his heart flutter as he contemplated what his answer might be. Putting the monitors on pause, Bruce turned to look at him. The cowl was down and his eyes were steady. Dick paused at the bottom of the stairs and seemed to look over all the objects that had accumulated over the years in the cave. He smiled as he looked at the giant penny and the dinosaur. He looked at Bruce now.

"I wouldn't want to be stuck here,' Dick said. "This, this is you, not me."

"I wouldn't ask you to,' Bruce replied. "I always expected you to make it your own."

Dick nodded and moved closer.

"I've thought about it, a lot,' he said. "More than a lot, really."

"And?"

"The answer is yes, eventually, but not now.'

The two men shared a smile.

"Thank you,' Bruce finally said.

"I'm still not convinced you'll really give it up, you know?" Dick joked. "Just doesn't seem right, some how."

"Some things aren't up to us to decide,' Bruce offered. "I am going to fight it as long as I can, but it's coming and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Age always wins."

Dick nodded and moved closer, glancing at the monitors.

"I always wondered if this day would come when I was a kid,' Bruce said. "I used to try on your old suits when you weren't around. They seemed so heavy back then. I imagine they're even heavier now."

"Not too heavy,' Bruce replied. "You just have to make it fit, make it yours."

Dick nodded, understanding what he was saying. Neither man was much for emotion, so Dick tried to lighten the mood.

"I noticed Selina upstairs. Is this just a visit or is she staying?"

Bruce smiled.

"A lot of things were put on hold over the years,' he explained. "It's time they weren't."

"How does she feel about this?" Dick asked.

"I haven't told her yet. I haven't told anyone but you." Bruce replied. "As to her response, your guess is as good as mine."

"But you're the great detective,' Dick joked.

"The mysteries of a woman's mind, especially that woman, are beyond even my talents."

"Here that was one of the secrets I was hoping you'd pass on,' Dick replied.

"Some things you have to find out for yourself,' Bruce stated.

Dick nodded and then moved closer to gaze at the screens.

"So what developments do we have in the city tonight?" He asked, pointing to one of the monitors. Bruce swiveled in his chair and took the screens off pause. The next hours slipped away as the two men discussed business.

* * *

><p>Paris –Day 4<p>

Diana slipped back into her jeans, leaving them unbuttoned and laid back down on the bed. They had barely been out of the room in the last four days. Food was ordered and delivered, along with fresh china, silverware, napkins and glasses, they weren't animals Diana reminded him. His body was fully healed and he seemed a bit stronger than before. That worked out nicely for Diana, as now that she's experienced not holding back, she didn't want to settle for anything less. Part of her thought she could remain in his hotel room making love to him forever and be happy, but soon the world would call them both back.

They were going to be married. A smile lit up her full lips as she remembered how good he had been at persuading her. She had held out almost an hour before saying yes. She already knew just how she wanted her wedding to be. During one of their infrequent breaks, she had called her mother with the news. That had been a rather long discussion, but eventually Hippolyta had come around. She had heard the happiness in her daughter's voice and knew it was pointless to try and talk her out of it. As mothers and daughters are want to do, the discussion soon turned to the wedding. It would of course be on Themyscira.

Clark was taking a shower, so Diana picked up her Blackberry. She had made a few notes earlier and now she added to them. She knew exactly how she wanted her wedding to be, exactly. She could picture it all in her mind, from the location down to the flowers her sisters would carry. As she visualized it, each element came to her in an almost 3d of image and sound, from the wedding cake to the music for each part of the ceremony. They would be married on the beach just before sunset. She could see them standing taking their vows as the warm sun slowly sank as a backdrop. Picturing it, she knew she would have to get him a tuxedo, one that fit perfectly.

Details, so many details she thought, I should get my staff at the embassy started on pricing caterers and florists. Diana had seen a wedding dress some time ago while she was walking in Washington and had stopped to look at it in the window. It had elegant, classic lines, yet none of the ostentatiousness that ruined so many wedding gowns she had thought. Marriage had been the furthest thing from her mind back then, but now she wanted that specific dress. She text her assistant the exact location of the store and description of the dress and instructed her to procure it immediately.

Twenty minutes later Diana was sitting on the side of the bed still busily making notes, sending instructions and surfing wedding and bridal sites. Clark stepped into the room drying his hair. He was only wearing a part of old loose shorts, but he wasn't planning on going anywhere else. He stood quietly for a moment just taking in line of her back, the flair of her hips, her raven curls and the sheer beautiful of all of her. She was still wearing his sleeveless undershirt and looked impossibility sexy to him. Dropping the towel on one of the chairs he moved onto the bed and brushed some of her curls to the side, kissing her neck.

"Hi." He said, continuing to kiss along her shoulder and then back up.

"Oh, hi, Kal, are you done with your shower already?' She replied, still feverishly working the keys on her Blackberry.

"Yeah, um, what are you doing, Diana?" He asked, glancing down at the phone in her hand.

She turned now and smiled at him.

"We're getting married remember?'

"Yeah, pretty happy about that too,' he replied, kissing her lips.

"As am I,' she said and then turned back to the phone. "I'm just making some preliminary plans."

He glanced down at the phone and saw that she had done an extraordinary amount of making preliminary plans already.

"How long was I in the shower?" He asked, surprised at how much detail her notes seemed to have.

"Twenty minutes."

"And you've done that much planning, already?"

She turned, smiled and kissed him again.

"It's just preliminary as I said,' she offered. "I want our wedding to be perfect down to the smallest detail. By the way those orchids you sent with your apologies, do you know what the florist's name was where you got them?"

"It was the florist at the hotel, he replied. "I don't really remember. Why?"

"I want those exact orchids for our wedding," she explained. "Also do you prefer Bach's A Lover's Concerto (Minuet in G Major) or Mozart's Ave Verum Corpus for the wedding prelude song?"

"The what?'

"The prelude song, it's the song played prior to the beginning of the actual ceremony, Kal, 'she explained.

"It is?'

"Of course, I thought we could mix the music to represent both out cultures, the traditional in my case and some from your culture,' she continued.

"My culture?" He replied. "I'm from Kansas, Diana, I don't think we have a culture really. Well maybe American culture, but that's pretty hard to define. As long as there's lots of food and a fiddle and guitar of some kind we're usually happy."

"I meant Kryptonian Kal."

"Oh, right,' he said. 'I don't think you'd like their music much. It's very progressive by most standards, like listening to Phillip Glass or Brian Eno. I don't think it would work at a wedding really."

"Oh, well, than do you prefer Bach or Mozart?'

"I guess Mozart,' he offered. He noticed she wasn't smiling, just staring at him. "Or Bach is good too.'

"I agree,' Diana replied, smiling once more. "Bach it is. Now as to the floral arraignments."

"You know if I wasn't in love with you, I'd be a little freaked out right now,' he said.

This earned him an elbow to the ribs.

"Ow!"

"It's our wedding, Kal,' Diana said. "I'm only getting married once and I want it to be perfect."

He smiled at her and then eased her back into his arms.

"And it will, Diana, it will,' he whispered. Slowly he took her Blackberry from her hands and set it on the nightstand. "I'll marry you anywhere, anytime, however you want it to be. Close your eyes for a moment and picture it."

He moved them both down so they were lying on the bed. He began kissing along her shoulder and ear.

"Can you picture it, our wedding?" He whispered, continuing to kiss her neck and moving towards her lips. She was smiling now.

"Yes, every detail,' she whispered in replied.

"That's just how it's going to be, just as you want it,' he whispered, kissing her lips. "But that's in the future, right now I'm still trying to persuade you."

"I already agreed,' she laughed.

"I didn't say what I was trying to persuade you to do,' he replied, kissing her again and again. His hand skimmed down over her breasts barely contained in the thin undershirt, caressing her as they moved.

"I think I know what you want, Kal,' she groaned. "I don't need persuading for that."

He leaned back looking into her eyes, as his hands moved away from her body.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, but don't stop!"

And he didn't.

* * *

><p>Cote D'Azur<p>

A black limousine pulled up in front of the beach house and stopped. The driver got out and walked around to the back door and opened it. Suzette stepped out, thanking the driver and then turned back towards the young man in the car. He leaned forward and smiled.

"You've made me the happiest man alive, Simone!"

"I'm happy too,' she said, glancing at the two carat diamond surrounded by sapphires that now adorned her left hand. She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss before stepping back.

"Are you sure I can't talk you into meeting my parents tonight and telling them the good news about us getting married?" He asked.

"Tomorrow, please, I'm still in shock really,' she replied, flashing a smile. "I just want it to settle in tonight. Please?"

"As you wish, darling,' he said. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 10 and we can go tell them."

"Absolutely,' she said and then kissed him again. "Good night."

"Good night."

She stepped back and the driver closed the door. She stood motionless until the car had pulled away and then turned and walked to the house. It was late and Julian had probably already turned in. She fished the key from her bag and slipped silently inside. Suzette made her way to her room and tossed her bag on the bed. She glanced at the engagement ring again and smiled. She watched it sparkle in the moonlight for a moment, then slipped it off and put it in with her other jewelry.

As she unzipped her dress, she opened another drawer and took out a small black leather case. The dress slipped down her body and pooled at her ankles as she opened the case and looked at the gun inside. Stepping out of the dress she smiled and lifted the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. Attaching a silencer, she checked the clip to make sure it was full and the put the gun back down on the case.

She had never thought much about guns until recently, but now she knew all about them. This particular one she especially liked because of the dynamic of small size plus stopping power. There was power in a gun, tangible power that didn't need muscle or fighting skill to harness. Suzette instinctively understood this. For all the macho gun culture that seemed so prevalent, a gun was the great equalizer. A gun only asked for a steady hand and the will to use it. It didn't care about gender or size or motive, in fact it was neutral about just about everything except killing. That was what a gun was primarily for, killing. If you were willing to pull the trigger a gun was your ally.

Slipping off her heels she went over to the closet and took out a dark blouse and trousers. Silently she put them on and looked at herself in the mirror. She usually didn't like pants, but they seemed practical for what she had to do tonight. She slipped her feet into a pair a cross trainers, another sacrifice she didn't care for and then pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She fished a cigarette out of her bag and lit it, inhaling deeply. She held cigarette between her lips as she slipped on a pair of leather gloves. She smiled, liking the feel of the texture against her skin. She glanced at her watch, put the cigarette pack in her pocket and picked up the gun. She took another long drag off the cigarette and then went out through the sliding glass doors into the night.

* * *

><p>Down the beach a light were still on. Inside the nondescript house Tom Tresser fixed himself another drink and moved over to the couch and dropped into it. He was miserable and took a deep swallow of the liquor letting it burn it's way down his throat. His name was clear and he was official back in good graces with the Agency, but they had stuck him here in this safe house for the time being. Until things cooled down Amanda Waller had told him earlier in the week.<p>

He hadn't gone out much, but had checked out the surroundings by habit. He'd seen Julian and Suzette were stashed here as well, several house down the beach. He hadn't even gone down to see them. It sickened him that the Agency had made a deal with those two. They had no loyalty except to the highest bidder and no morals at all. He found himself disillusioned with the people he was working for if they would get in bed with people like that. The world might be made up of shades of gray, but in Tom's mind there was always a line between good and evil. Once you crossed it you were no better than the people you were supposed to be fighting. The country he was fighting for was supposed to be better than that.

He took another swallow of the liquor and finished his glass. Getting up awkwardly he moved over and poured himself another. The bottle was almost empty, as he'd been drinking most of the night. Being put on ice like this gave him nothing to do besides think. Thinking always turned his mind to Diana and that lead to thinking about Kent. Batman's words rolled around in his brain, but Tom couldn't accept them.

He'd been dumped before, that wasn't it, he thought. It was how and who had dumped him that was the real problem. She was fooling herself thinking Kent was any different. Fucking Superman what a joke, Tom scoffed, a damn drunk and whore monger more like it. He wasn't special, he wasn't, Tom told himself. She just didn't see it. She was caught up in the fantasy, but soon enough reality would come crashing in. She'd realize what she'd thrown away, what they had together.

Tears came to his eyes as he thought of her. She was more angel than woman to him. Some otherworldly being that should be worshiped instead of loved. She belonged on a pedestal separated from everyone else. That was how he'd treated her, but she didn't want that. She wanted to climb down off that pedestal and wallow around in the gutter with Kent. Well fuck her too, Tom thought. He threw the glass and watched it shatter against the wall. He grabbed the bottle and started back towards the couch, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He was standing in front of the couch when he heard the telltale sound of a hammer being pulled back on a gun. He looked up to see Suzette smiling at him. She didn't say a word and he didn't have a chance to, as she pulled the trigger twice. The bullets slammed into his stomach, knocking him back onto the couch. Gut shots, he knew and that was bad. The blood was already pouring out of him and then the pain came.

"You bitch!" He gasped.

"It's my variation on the classic,' she said pleasantly. "You know where the villain tells the hero all about their plans before they kill him. I reversed it. I think it works better that way."

Tom watched in disbelief as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. With one hand she shook one out and put it to her lips. The gun was still pointed at him. She seemed to feel around in her pocket for a moment and then looked at him again.

"Got a match?" She asked. "No? You stay there, I'll find something."

She lowered the gun and started walking around the beach house looking through drawers. He could hear her and wanted to flee, to do something, anything, but his legs were so weak and the blood wasn't stopping. She came back in front of him and flicked a lighter, lighting her cigarette. She took a deep drag and smiled at him. Slowly she moved forward and sat down across from Tom.

"How you doing?" She asked.

"You shot me, how do you think I'm doing, you stupid bitch?"

"I think you're dying," she replied, taking another drag on the cigarette. "Slowly dying."

"You're still nothing but a whore,' he spat out at her. The pain was getting worse and he clutched at his belly trying to stop the blood. He heard her laugh and looked up at her again.

"You never got it, did you?" She said. "You think that's such a horrible insult calling me a whore. I am a whore, or was, I've got a new career now. Calling me a whore is like calling a waitress a waitress, Nemesis. If anything it makes it worse for you, doesn't it? A whore killing you like this?"

Tom tried to stand but his legs gave out under him. He fell to the ground with a thud. Groaning with pain, he started to crawling towards the bedroom. There was a gun in there and if he could just get to it, he thought.

"You know the more you move, the faster the blood loss is,' Suzette said to him. "You'll never make it all the way to the bedroom, so you might as well not try."

"Fuck you,' Tom gasped and continued crawling. Suzette raised the gun and shot him twice in the back.

"No thanks," she said. "I don't think my fiancée would like that. Oh, I'm getting married I forgot to tell you."

Tom was slipping fast, but managed to roll over on his side to look at her.

"You think you won, but you'll get yours, whore,' he rasped. "Karma's a bitch, honey."

Suzette stood and walked over to him, but stayed just out of his reach. She smiled down at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Karma, what comes around goes around, right?" She said with a smirk. "You westerners don't know shit about Karma. I grew up in Thailand remember? The whole country is Buddhists. Karma is tied to reincarnation, Nemesis. In the original texts of the Rig Veda it says an individual cycles back and forth between the earth and a heavenly realm of ancestors. In this worldview, moral behavior has no influence on rebirth. Besides, you'll find out whether there is such a thing as karma long before I will."

"Why are you still here?' Tom asked, feeling weaker by the moment. "Are you enjoying this?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am,' Suzette admitted. "This is my first killing, well, professionally and it's rather exciting. I usually don't talk this much, but this seems like a special occasion. I think I'm doing very well, don't you? I mean for my first time?"

"You're a sociopath."

"It all depends on your perspective, doesn't it?' Suzette replied. "To you I'm a sociopath, but to me, I'm just doing what I have to do to get what I want. Part of our deal with Amanda Waller was eliminating you. Apparently her superiors think you're too much of a loose cannon to keep around. I could lie to myself like you do and say I'm doing it for something greater, but we both know that's not the truth. You're nobody to me and if killing you gets me what I want, well then it's a simple choice, isn't it?"

She raised the gun again and pointed it at Tom's face. He knew he was dying, but desperately wanted more time. As fleeting as it was, life was all he had. He gambled.

"I know something about your ex-boyfriend, Suzette,' Tom whispered. "About Kent that you don't."

She lowered the gun and smiled at him.

"He used to be Superman, is that it?" She asked. The shocked expression on Tom's face confirmed it for her. Suzette laughed merrily and almost did a little dance right there in the living room. "Amanda Waller told us! It's crazy isn't it? I thought I was going to pass out when she said it. I just knew there was something special about him. I'm so glad I didn't kill him."

"He's not special!" Tom shouted. He then groaned and slumped back on the carpet. Suzette stopped smiling and slowly moved over to Tom. She leaned down and looked him in the eye.

'But he is, Tom,' she whispered. "And you're not. You're just dead."

Blood was coming from Tom's lips as she stood back up and started to walk away. He lay there feeling his life slip away and could only watch as she disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

Amanda Waller stood alone in her office. The phone was to her ear and she listened for several minutes.

"So it's done?"

The voice on the other end confirmed this.

"All right, I'll be in touch,' she said. "Good night."

She hung up without another word and sat down at her desk. Tom Tresser was dead. Another little compromise in a series of compromises. It hadn't been her decision, that had come from higher up, but she was the one that had to see it out. That was her job, doing the things her superiors didn't want to do, or at least didn't want to admit doing. They were all 'moral and decent' men they told themselves, but tonight they had sanctioned the killing of a man that had served his country more times than Amanda could count. They had their plausible deniability, their hands were clean.

Amanda knew another line had been crossed. It was one she wasn't sure she could ever undo. The world was unfair, she'd always known this, but tonight it seemed a little worse and she was part of that. She reached up and turned the light on her desk off and just sat there in the dark.


	38. Chapter 38

Haunted

Outside of Paris

The countryside flashed vaguely by as the late model Jaguar glided along the highway. Houses, both big and small, trees, fields and people appeared as if on a television screen in two dimensions. All the colors seemed washed out and muted somehow, as if they were copies of copies. Simone sat in the passenger seat, watching it all roll by. The people almost didn't register; just brief glimpses of figures with no faces, like some rustic Amish painting come to life. A faint ennui seemed to have taken hold on the way back from Robert's parents house. Robert was her fiancée, the promising young French politician and he was currently driving and talking.

She would occasionally look over to him and smile, as if she were hanging on his every word. She wasn't of course; in fact the more he talked the less interesting she found him. He seemed to feel the need to go over everything that had just happened with his parents. It was like looking at vacation photos minutes after you took them to her. She had been there less than an hour ago and didn't need his recap. It was a quality she despised in people, as if they couldn't trust their own memories, so they needed to regurgitate the facts and events with someone else. It was as if they needed someone else to agree on an official version of what happened for future retellings of the story. His voice seemed so excited and unappealing as he told her again how much his mother and father had liked her.

Of course they had, she thought, they were supposed to.

If she learned anything from her former profession it was to appear as people wanted her to appear. She was currently wearing a light tan suit over a pale blue blouse looking very Audrey Hepburn circa Two For the Road. The large oversized black sunglasses completed the effect. It said to the mother, stylish yet a touch conservative, appealing but in a demure way. To the father it showed just enough leg to remind him of the girls of his youth, the ones he'd had before he married. Tastefully sexy, she gave them both a little something to like.

They came from old money, she thought. There was a quiet elegance about their house and how they carried themselves. They spoke of seasons, yachting season, riding season, and holiday season. Of course the season they opened their vacation house on the shore came up as well. It was a world of horses, boats and parties, with the word social attached to all of them.

There were questions about her life of course, Simone expected that. She lied as easily as eating ice cream on a summer day, shaving off three years from her age so she was a fresh 22. She spoke of traveling the world with her father, an ex-patriot and Legionnaire and watched them eat it up. She knew the greater and wilder the lie, the more Julian would enjoy playing the part. She made vague references to attending the Sorbonne but was sure to let on her ultimate goal was to be a dutiful wife and aid her husband's career. It was all very Camelot, Jackie Kennedy and she knew it was what they wanted to hear.

Behind her ever-present smile though, she found it all mind numbingly dull. Part of her would have liked to watch their faces if she told them the truth about what she have been doing recently. There was still a bit of a high when she thought about the other night. How she took a man's life less than an hour after she accepted Robert's marriage proposal. She would have also liked to see their reaction if she told them of the two which one she enjoyed more. But she wouldn't tell them or Robert ever. She would smile and be the polite quiet wife they all wanted to see. She would give them the illusion just like any other customer.

The music in the car suddenly got a little louder and she turned. Robert smiled and sheepishly said the song was one of his favorites. The Windmills of Your Mind was playing and immediately Simone said it was one of her favorites too. This pleased him. He couldn't see her eyes behind the dark glasses or he might have caught just a hint of something. She smiled and turned back to look out the window.

_Round,  
>Like a circle in a spiral<br>Like a wheel within a wheel,  
>Never ending on beginning,<br>On an ever-spinning reel  
>Like a snowball down a mountain,<br>Or a carnival balloon  
>Like a carousel that's turning<br>Running rings around the moon  
>Like a clock whose hands are sweeping<br>Past the minutes on its face  
>And the world is like an apple<br>Spinning silently in space  
>Like the circles that you find<br>In the windmills of your mind!_

It was a perfect song for him, she thought, vapid with pretensions of being profound. He wasn't a deep thinker, she knew, as much as he liked to believe himself to be. He was much more of a surface intellectual, the kind you see pontificating on news shows. They knew a few key points and had some ready, pithy comments, but there was nothing below the surface. She certainly didn't hold this against him. In fact it was one of the traits she actually liked about him. He was the right kind of handsome for television and was certainly good at parties; she knew he would go far in his political career. If you were hand picking a husband, which she was, Robert would be at the top of most lists.

As she looked out the window though, she couldn't seem to shake that sense of ennui. The boredom with this existence and world seemed much stronger today than usual. Life had always been about sensations for her, the moment, the feel of things, yet as she watched the city grow closer she felt none of it around her now. She thought of life as a series of moments spread out like a slow heart beat on an EKG with long valleys in between. Sometimes those valleys dipped very deep, but it was the peaks that mattered. Before they had been random, but recently she'd found a way to create them. Perhaps she truly was her father's daughter after all, for she found the idea of this life so many would probably covet held little sway with her. She certainly wasn't some dreamer by any stretch of the imagination. She was getting married for practical reasons. Of the choices presented to her, Robert was the best option.

In some ways Simone thought of herself as a bit old fashioned. The notion of marrying just for love seemed short sighted. If love was the only factor you were considering then why get married at all? Marriage at its core was a business transaction, plain and simple. You held out for the best deal and when it presented itself you took it. If your partner wanted to cloak that in the illusion of love, well you let him.

Superman. She smiled quietly to herself as she thought about him. Kal was always a fascinating man. For her though, it was the same as if they'd said he used to be Elvis. It had no meaning or frame of reference in her life. She saw the way Julian and Amanda Waller spoke about him. Even Nemesis, although he tried to deny it, seemed to think the name would have some impact on her. Yes, she found it interesting, but in the same way she would find it mildly interesting if you told her Houdini was the first man to fly a plane in Australia. It was a bit of trivia, nothing more. He wasn't Superman now, so what did it really matter?

They all seemed to miss the point, she thought. What she found so intoxicating about him wasn't who he used to be, but who he was now. She liked that he wasn't like those sad, fading stars that seem to always be popping up, still trading off some film or song they'd done two decades ago. It was just something he'd done and moved on. When they were together it was intensely in the now, this moment. He never spoke of the past and that's what drew her to him. Too many people were desperate to tell you the stories of their lives, she thought, it was refreshing to meet someone that didn't.

Yes, she thought he was impossibility handsome, but that wasn't the core of his appeal for her. It was so rare to meet anyone that you had to take just as they were. He had walked into her life out of nowhere and offered no explanations. That made him even more alluring in her mind, a mystery that forced you to take him as he was. Broken, damaged and haunted, he never offered any excuses or wanted sympathy. It made him shimmer to her amongst the dull and ordinary people that surrounded him. It was something she noticed the first time they were together and he seemed totally unaware of it. He had a quiet confidence about him that was so attractive to just about every woman. When they made love, for that was what they always did she realized, he was assured enough about himself to be able to focus on the person he was with. He didn't fumble or seek only his personal satisfaction; he was more interested in a shared moment, a connection. He made the woman he was with seem like the most important person in the world to him at that moment. As crushing or heartbreaking as it might be for him, he seemed almost unable not to constantly in the moment. He lived in the now just as she did.

That was what she thought they had in common. The past was gone and there was no reason to bring it up again. Like sharks, if you weren't moving forward you were dying. When they were having sex, nothing else matter. Even afterwards, there was no reason to review it aloud. They both knew what it was and didn't need the other to confirm it. Yes, memories were nice unless all you had were memories. Married or not, Simone felt sure there would be more between her and Kal.

The dreadful song was finally over and Robert turned the volume down. They were coming into Paris. She would spend the night here before returning to the beach house. Robert was still talking. He was not so subtly trying to impress her with his connections. He'd managed to book her a suite at the Plaza because of whom he knew. The details were so unimportant, she thought, but she smiled giving him what he was after. He would want to spend the night. Simone glanced at the ring on her finger and knew she would agree. It would be mildly pleasurable as he was so eager to please. She could already imagine him talking afterwards wanting to be reassured it was wonderful. As his dutiful future wife she would give him that.

He was still talking. Simone let his voice drift to the background as she turned once more to look out the window. They were moving slowly into the Paris traffic. The sun was shining so she rolled her window down to let in the sounds of the city. As they pulled up to a stoplight she saw a crowd milling about. It was a farmer's market. Her eyes drifted over the crowd not really seeing any of them, until he eyes found him. Just like at the train station he seemed so vivid against the crowd. Then Simone saw the woman. She only got a glimpse but thought the woman was perhaps the most breathtakingly beautiful woman she had ever seen. It was obvious they were in love. Simone felt her breath catching in her throat as she sat there looking at them. Without hearing a word they said, it was so obvious they were in love. The way they touched and looked at each other as if even in this crowd they saw no one else.

Simone felt the tears moisten her eyes, as she understood he had moved on. She instinctively knew there was nothing to be said or done that would change this. Just like her, he was always in the present, the moment. In an instant, she had become his past and this woman was his present. The interminably long red light finally turned and the car began to move. She silently wiped away the tears as they disappeared from view. The ennui suddenly felt so heavy it threatened to overwhelm her. The song starting on the radio caught her attention and she managed to ask Robert to turn it up. She could see he didn't care for it, but he did what she asked. Ruth Brown's soulful voice filled the car as Simone rolled her window back up.

_So long,  
>hope we'll meet again some day.<br>Hope that maybe then you'll say,  
>"Darling, I was wrong."<em>

_So long,_  
><em>gee, I hate to see you go.<em>  
><em>You're the world to me you know. You've<em>  
><em>been mine so long.<em>

_All alone,_  
><em>with my memories of you.<em>  
><em>I can see that you're lonely too.<em>

_You're my own,_  
><em>even though we're far apart,<em>  
><em>I will keep you right here in my heart.<em>

_So long, so long_  
><em>though you leave me here to cry,<em>  
><em>this can never ever be "goodbye."<em>  
><em>We'll just say so long.<em>

_Though you leave me here to cry,_  
><em>this can never ever be "goodbye."<em>  
><em>We'll just say so long.<em>

How much time passed she wasn't sure, but they were pulling up in front of the hotel. Robert started to get out of the car, but she stopped him.

"I'm tired,' she said. "I wonder if you wouldn't mind letting me take a rain check until later?"

"Are you ill, Simone?" He asked with concern. "Should I send for a doctor, my love?'

"No, no, nothing like that,' she replied. "It's just the day has been a bit overwhelming. I'll be fine by seven for dinner. Please, dear?"

He smiled at her, thinking she was talking about their trip to meet his parents. She let him assume this.

"Are you sure everything's all right, darling?" He asked.

She turned and looked at him, the oversized dark glasses still obscuring her eyes.

"It will be,' she said with a smile and then headed into the hotel.

* * *

><p>Paris – The Farmer's Market<p>

They had been planning on taking a little walk just to get out of the hotel room for two days now, but things always seemed to distract them. Finally they'd managed to tear themselves a way from each other long enough to make it out of the room. They had lunch in a small sidewalk café. As they lingered over the coffee they both had the urge to head straight back to the hotel room. They discussed it and agreed that just maybe the waiting would make it even hotter when they did return.

Walking hand and hand, they strolled along the side streets and just enjoyed the city of lights. They were together and that was all that really seemed to matter. It was still so new to both of them. Less than a year ago or even a month really the idea they would be getting married to anyone seemed impossible, yet here they were. Neither were kids anymore and they knew there would be many challenges ahead. When they looked at each other though, all those seemed inconsequential to what they felt for each other.

It was a group of children rushing by them that led them to the farmer's market. They had nearly knocked them down in their hurry and Clark found himself flinching just a bit. Being around children still made him uneasy. He'd accepted the death of his son, but didn't imagine he would ever fully be over it. Children made him nervous now. They seemed infinitely more fragile to him, like little candles flickering in the wind that could be so easily snuffed out. He was dealing with these fears as best he could, but they still flared up occasionally.

* * *

><p>Diana noticed his reaction to the children, but didn't say anything. She quietly watched him out of the corner of her eye and saw something pass over his features. She had little experience with children herself, but now that they were getting married she did wonder about them. She realized she'd never seriously considered children because until Kal asked her she'd never seriously considered marriage either. Yes, some of the previous men she dated had broached the topic but it had never really got much further than that. Now it was a reality, a wonderful, amazing, joyous reality. Now that it was, she was completely sure she wanted it all and that meant children too.<p>

She knew he would need time and she was more than willing to give it to him. Diana also knew sometimes Kal needed a little push and she was also more than willing to give him that too. It was like their wedding, she thought. He had made the first move and asked her, but now it was up to her to see it through. He had teased her about being a bit OCD about it, but she had calmly explained to him that was not the case. She just knew exactly what she wanted, unlike him. He had replied that he knew what he wanted, her. She liked that very much, but wasn't going to let him charm his way out of it.

Their wedding was so important to her because it was personal. As a Princess and Ambassador, most of the ceremonies she attended or oversaw were rigidly defined by protocol or tradition. Their wedding was theirs alone. It was why every detail seemed important to her. It was a chance to do something that was just for them exactly as they wanted it. Since he had said he would marry her anywhere and anytime, that meant it was up to her. He had smiled and said that seemed like a huge rationalization for being a little anal about it. She elbowed him for that one. He had eventually agreed she was right and they would do it her way. He just needed a little push is all, she thought.

* * *

><p>Clark had known she saw his reaction to the children. He also knew that getting married again meant there was a strong possibility they would have children. He wasn't opposed to it in fact the idea was wonderful. He loved children. It was the fear of losing another child that haunted him. The last time had almost driven him mad, he wasn't sure he could deal with it happening again. It was out there though. By asking Diana to marry him, he was acknowledging the possibility of them having children. If he knew anything about his future wife, he knew she would address it head on at some point. He also knew he was so deeply in love with her that there was very little he would deny her.<p>

Their wedding came to mind and he smiled. For someone so intimately connected to a lasso of truth she could rationalize with the best of them. The observation that she might be just a bit OCD was immediately met with a counter argument. She would calmly explain why he was wrong and she wasn't being anal about it. She just knew what she liked and wanted, exactly what she liked and wanted. Far from being annoyed by this, he found it enduring. That she could obsess over her wedding like any other bride to be just showed how all too human she really was.

They seemed to compliment each other, he thought. Not on everything by any stretch of the imagination but enough that it worked for them. If the last year had proven anything to him it was that there would always be friction between them. He knew he tended to brood and doubts overwhelmed him at times, but she wouldn't let him fall too deep into that. On the other hand, she could be rather stubborn and set in her ways to the point of rigidity. It was for him to make sure she didn't get so lost in those patterns that she stopped living. They pushed each other, although he secretly thought she liked doing the pushing just a little too much. He wisely didn't point this out to her, but he would tease her about it. He knew she hated to be teased and she knew he knew it.

* * *

><p>They wandered among the stalls and looked over the produce for sale. Clark stopped at one of the fruit vendors. They were selling peaches and they looked delicious. He took paper bag and began to select some. Diana came over and stood watching him.<p>

"We just ate, Kal,' she said.

"Yeah, but they look so good,' he replied and then took a bite out of one of them. "Taste good too."

"You could have ordered more food at the restaurant if you were still hungry.' She pointed out.

"Take a bite, Diana."

He held the peach up to her mouth and at first she didn't want to, but then gave in to him and took a bite. It was good, she thought as she chewed. He leaned in and kissed her, the sticky sweet juice getting all over their faces.

"I thought if we stock up we wouldn't have to go out for dinner,' he whispered with a smile. His free hand casually brushed against her side. She smiled at him.

"That would be convenient,' she admitted. He held up a paper napkin for her, which she readily utilized.

"It would also give you more time to make notes on our wedding,' he offered.

She smiled widely at this and kissed him passionately.

"I guess we could pick up a few things,' she whispered when she finally broke the kiss. He just nodded and smiled. Clark had noticed that when she was thinking about the wedding and planning it one of the side effects was she grew more amorous if that was possible. He'd shifted from being a little frightened of her rather obsessive behavior to encouraging it. He'd already been through one wedding and knew in the end he wouldn't really have any say in it anyway, so he might as well enjoy the upside.

Over the next hour they moved among the stalls picking up different items, each looking for their favorites. They drifted apart, as Diana liked to haggle with the vendors while Clark just paid what they asked. He kept glancing over to her almost as if he still couldn't believe it was all real. All the pain, all the torment of the last year and a half had yielded this miracle. As he watched her working the seller, getting the best price and then sharing her purchase with some of the children, he felt happy, truly happy again.

* * *

><p>The Plaza Hotel<p>

Simone thanked the bellhop and gave him a generous tip but as soon as the door closed her smile was gone. She changed out of her clothes and into a pair of slacks and a light blouse. Lifting her suitcase onto the bed, she opened it. At the bottom was a small box and she took this out and laid it on the desk. She finished dressing, dawning the oversized sunglasses and a large hat, along with a big shoulder bag. Moving once again to the desk she opened the box and took out the gun. It was a different one than the last time and the clip held twelve bullets. She checked it all out thoroughly and then slipped out of her room and down the back stairs.

She exited the hotel unseen and headed back towards the market. She didn't rush or draw attention to herself, but steadily made her way along the busy streets. Later she would think about this and realize she didn't really have a clear plan in mind and chide herself about it. What was running through her mind now was that she wanted to punish Kal. She knew it was over between them, but she felt the sting of knowing he'd moved on. She wanted to hurt him for that and knew the woman should be the target. Watching her get shot would wound him far worse than shooting him would. Simone didn't plan on killing the woman. No, that would be too easy. She wanted to cripple her, so that every time he looked at her he would feel the sting. The woman would also know every time she struggled to stand or walk that it was because of him she had to suffer like this.

This would be here lasting gift to him, a lifetime of pain with his new woman. She reached the end of the road and waited in the shadows. Simone watched him look at the woman and could see how much he cared for her. That just added to her anger. They drifted apart and Simone focused on the woman. She moved from stall to stall haggling good-naturedly with the vendors. A group of schoolgirls seemed to watch her and the woman offered them some of her purchases. Simone smiled as she watched the schoolgirls crowd around the woman accepting the cherries she offered.

This was the perfect moment she thought, the woman he loved and children. Simone stepped out into the street and smoothly took the gun out of her shoulder bag. She aimed and squeezed the trigger over and over until the clip was empty. She turned and walked away, not even looking back as the street erupted in chaos.

* * *

><p>Diana laughed as the schoolgirls eagerly crowded around her. She held the bag of fresh picked cherries for them and they dug in greedily. They had her backed against the stall and she could hardly move, but she was enjoying herself. What made her look up she didn't know, but she saw the woman in white pull the gun from her bag and open fire. Diana's instincts kicked in and she lunged forward to protect the schoolgirls.<p>

She managed to deflect the first bullets, but one slipped through and actually nicked her leg. It was a minor flesh wound, but there was blood. The last few shots seemed aimed away from her and she stretched out, diving in front of the children to save them. When she looked up the woman was gone and people were screaming.

* * *

><p>Clark heard the first shot at the same time as everyone else. He turned and could just make out a woman, dressed in white firing a gun. His eyes immediately moved to the direction she was shooting in.<p>

"NO!"

He screamed as he saw Diana going down towards the pavement. It was his worst nightmare come to life in front of his eyes again. The woman he loved was dying. He saw children screaming and falling. He wasn't thinking she was Wonder Woman, only that it was happening again. He'd lived in fear of this for a year and a half. It was the reason he never got close to anyone. He hadn't believed life could be this cruel, yet he knew from experience it could. It was the nightmare that haunted his dreams and now it was happening in front of him again.

The paper bags in his arms slipped away as he rushed to her fallen body.

"Diana!" He shouted, tears rolling down his face. She can't die, not now, he kept telling himself. He saw blood on her leg and his worst fears took over. He scrambled down on his knees and pulled her up into his arms. He was so terrified, afraid to look into her eyes. He clutched her to his chest and kept repeating no, no, no.

* * *

><p>Diana felt herself being swiftly picked up and cradle in a strong pair of arms. Kal, she realized and then she heard him weeping and saying no, no, no.<p>

"Kal, it's okay, I'm all right,' she said to him. He finally looked into her eyes and it seemed he almost didn't believe it.

"You're alive,' he gasped and then began kissing her all over her face. "I thought…"

He couldn't finish the sentence as relief washed over him.

"Kal-mmm-Kal-mmm-Kal-mmm-I'm-I'm-mmm-I'm okay,' she managed to say between kisses. She could feel him trembling in her arms and suddenly realized what he must have thought. "I'm okay, Kal, really.'

"I thought I lost you,' he whispered, holding her so tight as if he never wanted to let her go.

"Shh-Shh, I'm fine. I can take care of myself, remember?" She whispered, holding him in her arms. "I'm not going to die on you, Kal."

They sat there just holding each other for a long time.


	39. Chapter 39

The Morning and the Evening Star

Paris

It was hours later. The hotel room door opened, Clark carrying the bags inside and set them on the table. Diana stood at the door watching him. He pulled a six-pack of beer out of one of the bags and unloaded them into an ice bucket. He cracked one open and took a long drink. Diana slowly closed the door.

"Back to drinking?" She said.

"It's been one of those days," he replied, not turning to look at her.

"We need to talk about what happened, Kal."

He moved over to the window and stood looking out. He took another long drink from the beer.

"Kal?"

Diana wasn't going to let this go. It was important they discuss this.

"I expect an answer," she said to him. His head dipped just a bit.

"I thought I was watching you die out there, Diana,' he finally replied.

She moved over and put her hand on his arm turning him to face her.

"I wasn't in any real danger, Kal, you know that,' she said. "I've dealt with far greater threats before."

"I know, you're Wonder Woman,' he replied. He finished off the bottle of beer and moved to grab another one. She stopped him.

"That's not the answer,' she said. He looked at her, trying to find the words that would explain it to her, to make her understand what the nightmare was like.

"Diana, I thought I was watching you die,' he said. "I know that makes no sense, but in that moment I wasn't thinking of you as Wonder Woman, or even as Diana, but a woman I'm in love with. I felt helpless to save you. It felt like it was all happening again."

"Kal, look at me,' Diana said to him. "Is that what this is about? Protecting me? Kal, I don't need you to protect me. I don't need you to save me. I don't need you to shelter me from all the bad things in the world. I just need you to love me, Kal, that's all."

He looked into her eyes and almost seemed surprised by her statement.

"I do, Diana, I do love you."

"Then you have to let go of the rest of it,' she replied.

"I can't,' he whispered, running his fingers down her cheek. "I can't separate my emotions like that. It doesn't matter if you're Wonder Woman or one of your Gods or one of those children in the market, Diana. I love you. I want to protect you and keep you safe. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"But you can't always protect me, Kal and I don't need you to,' she said, holding his hand against her cheek. He took his hand away and turned.

"But I should,' he whispered. "I should be able to protect the ones I love."

"Kal, I'm not Lois,' Diana said, knowing this was dangerous territory. "I don't need you to rescue me."

He moved back to the ice bucket and took out another beer and snapped it open.

"That's probably a good thing, I couldn't rescue her either."

There was such bitterness and sadness in his voice, it shocked her. She had thought they were passed this, but there it was. Diana loved him with all her heart, but she couldn't take the next step with him until he dealt with it. She couldn't, no she wouldn't, have this haunting her marriage. She deserved better than that and so did he. She watched him down the beer and take another. That was another thing she wouldn't put up with.

"You have a choice to make, Kal,' she stated flatly to him. "I love you but I'm not going to stand by and watch you do this to yourself all over again. You're not Superman as you're fond of telling me and even if you were you can't protect and save everyone. People die, Kal, accidents happen. By the very nature of what I do there are going to be more days like today and probably much worse. If we're going to have a future together, you're going to have to come to terms with that. There's no other way this will work."

"And if I can't?" he asked.

"Than maybe it's better we end things now,' she replied. "I don't want that, but it's your decision."

He turned and looked at her. She held his gaze and than glanced at the bottle in his hand.

"I'm going out for a while, I'll leave you to think about what you want to do."

She turned and walked out the door, not looking back.

* * *

><p>Paris – The Plaza Hotel<p>

Simone and Robert were just coming back from dinner. She was quiet and he was happy and excited. As they made their way into the lobby, they were surprised to see Julian standing waiting for them. He smiled as they walked over.

"Father?"

"Mr. Grinka, this is a surprise,' Robert said. "We weren't expecting you in Paris."

"Yes, yes," Julian apologetically said. "I hate to intrude on your two love birds, but a family matter has come up."

"A family matter? Simone said, eyeing the old man.

"Yes, your aunt _Amanda_, dear,' Julian replied. "I'm afraid it's urgent."

"Is she ill?" Robert asked. "I know the best doctors in Paris, perhaps I could help?"

"Very kind of you, son,' Julian said with a smile. "I knew you were the perfect man for my sweet innocent child, but the situation is already in hand. Simone's aunt just needs to see her at once, but thank you."

Simone turned to Robert and gave a little frown. She ran her fingertips along his tie and stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry, Robert, I know we had special plans for tonight,' she softly said. "I was looking forward to them as much as you were, but I do need to see me aunt. You understand, don't you, dear?"

"Yes, of course, darling,' Robert replied with a smile. "Family is important."

"Thank you,' she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Perhaps I could stay another night in Paris and we could reschedule our plans for tomorrow?'

"Yes, of course."

There were a few kisses and handshakes before Robert left. Julian and Simone headed for the elevator. They got on and were the only two inside. He turned to her and chuckled.

"Father? That was a nice touch,' he said to her.

"Don't get used to it,' she replied, rather dryly. "That was for his benefit, not yours."

"And well done,' he cheerily said.

"I thought you laid it on a little thick with 'your sweet innocent child', but he seemed to like it."

"His type always does,' Julia replied.

"So what does she want?" Simone asked.

"Who knows? She seems to always be angry about something,' Julian offered. "If she doesn't enjoy her work, she should do something else. Perhaps you used too many bullets killing Nemesis. You know how government officials always see the trees instead of the forest."

"Maybe she has another assignment for me,' Simone suggested hopefully. "Or perhaps she wants more information?"

"Well then in either case we'll have to negotiate a price, won't we?' Julian said with a smile. "I've got a wedding to pay for, remember?"

* * *

><p>Paris<p>

Diana walked along the thoroughfare but her mind was back at the hotel. She wondered if she'd been too harsh with him. Perhaps she was pushing him too hard; he'd suffered such a horrible tragedy. Maybe he just needed more time. The problem was where did that leave them? She loved him. She understood his grief, that was only natural. If he never became Superman again she didn't care, but she wouldn't just stand by and watch him punish himself.

It was that she wouldn't take. They had no future together if he continued. She knew it probably made her seem hard or callus, but it wasn't. It was because she loved him, all of him that she felt she had to draw this line. You can't save everyone. It was just one of those facts that as hard as you fought against it you couldn't change. She had to learn it just like everyone else. It was hard and painful, but sometimes that what the truth was. If she hadn't it would have destroyed her, just as it was destroying Kal.

As much as she loved him she could be with him for that, anything but that. Now it was up to him. With all her heart she hoped he could get passed it, but he would have to make that decision on his own. Some things you have to do for yourself. She was desperately in love with him, but that love wasn't unconditional. She wouldn't go down that dark tunnel with him. She couldn't. She just hoped he made the right choice.

Diana stopped and wiped her eyes, almost surprised by the tears she found. Thoughts of him filled her mind, but she needed to stop. She had other business to attend to and couldn't let her emotions get away from her. Steeling herself, Diana held her head high and started off down the street.

* * *

><p>Paris – The Hotel<p>

Clark stood at the window looking out at the night sky. He opened another beer. They were colder now and tasted even better. As he took another sip his mind was elsewhere.

Fucking jerk, he thought, first I fall apart at the market and then just standing here wallowing in my misery and let her walk out. She was right of course. He had been standing on the street and suddenly it was that horrible day in the yard all over again. He wasn't seeing Wonder Woman or Diana, but Lois and Jonathan and not being able to do anything to save them.

He'd played that horrible day over in his mind thousands of times. What if he'd turned just a moment sooner? What if he hadn't set the shovel there? What if he'd built a fence around their property? A million what ifs, yet the sad truth was he hadn't built a fence and the shovel was there because they were working in the yard and he hadn't turned a second sooner. There were so many things he'd wished he'd done, but he hadn't. Nothing was going to change the facts. A murderer had walked into their yard and killed Lois and Jonathan. If Clark had been anyone else he would have been the first to die that day. All the wishing, dreaming and what ifs in the world weren't going to change that.

Diana was right; he had a choice to make. Was that one horrible nightmare of a day going to define the rest of his life or not? Could he make his peace with it and embrace what he had now? If not, he had to let her go.

* * *

><p>Paris – Plaza Hotel<p>

Amanda Waller stood with her arms crossed looking impatient. Simone reclined on the bed just staring at the ceiling. Julian was on the phone and talking cheerfully as always.

"Sasha, Sasha, if we're just going to talk about who screwed who we'll never get anywhere,' he said. "I'm offering you a deal, my friend. The man that killed your shooters in Sarajevo."

There was a pause and Julian smiled even more.

"I thought that would get your attention."

Julian listened for a moment, idly checking his fingernails to see if they needed a trim.

"Sasha, I'm a businessman just like you,' Julian said. 'You want something and I have it or know where it is. The question is how badly do you want him?"

A loud angry voice could be heard shouting on the other end and Julian moved the phone away from his ear. He let the man go on for a minute or two before interrupting.

"Yes, yes, I can see you are passionate about this and want him very badly, but that's not the question,' Julian said. "How much do you want him, Sasha? Monetarily speaking, of course."

Julian listened for a moment.

"I was thinking slightly higher, my friend. I'm gift wrapping him for you. You can kill him personally," Julian stated. "My time and effort is worth something, isn't it?"

The man on the other end asked how much.

"One hundred and fifty thousand,' Julian flatly said. "When you wire the money to my account, I'll send you his exact coordinates. Your men should be able to take if from there. Although, you might want to consider doing it yourself since your men haven't been so successful."

More shouting could be heard on the other end of the line.

"My Russian is a little rusty, Sasha, but I don't think that sort of language is called for,' Julian replied. "If you don't want him, I'm sure I can find someone else who does."

There was more grumbling on the other end of the line, but then an offer. Julian smiled and nodded to Amanda Waller.

"I knew we could come to a reasonable agreement, Sasha,' Julian said. "Now all you have to do is wire the money and the man is yours. Yes, I'm sure you'll enjoy killing him. Sometimes you just have to do things yourself, I understand completely. I'll be in touch."

Julian ended the call and turned to Amanda.

"You have your man, Amanda,' he said. "Capturing one of the heads of the Russian syndicate that should be a feather in your cap. Your superiors will be very happy."

"Send him this address,' Amanda replied, holding out a piece of paper with an address written on it.

"The money first,' Julian stated. "This is a business deal, remember?"

Amanda looked at him for a moment, the disgust plain on her face.

"You'd sell out anyone, wouldn't you Grinka? Do you have an loyalty at all?" She asked.

"Conditionally, yes,' he replied. "Now before you begin your lecture I believe there is the matter of my fee for this little transaction?"

"You disgust me, both of you,' Amanda said, but pulled out her phone and made the transfer. Julian heard the chime on his phone and checked it. His Swiss bank account was notifying him of the update. He looked at Amanda with a smug smile.

"Now you have my loyalty."

"Until there's a higher bidder, right?" She sarcastically said.

"Perish the thought,' he replied.

Simone shifted on the bed and sat up. She was bored with this conversation.

"So do you want me to kill Sasha?' She asked.

"No,' Amanda replied. "I have a team in place to take him down. There are some agitators protesting against some of our interests. A few of my superiors feel they pose a threat. I'll have all the details for you tomorrow."

There was a knock on the door and they looked at each other.

"Probably your fiancée,' Julian suggested. "Checking up on you."

Simone sighed and slipped off the bed.

"Get rid of him.' Amanda told her.

"Already done,' Simone said as she opened the door.

A hand reached out and wrapped around her neck and lifted her four feet off the ground. A scream was choked off as her feet flailed uselessly. The door opened the rest of the way and Diana stepped inside. She slammed it behind her still holding Simone aloft. She looked at Waller and Julian and then back at Simone.

"A nest of vipers."

The words came out almost as a hiss. Waller started to reach for her sidearm, but quickly thought better of it.

"What do you think you're doing here, Princess?" Amanda demanded.

"This one,' Diana said, glancing at Simone dismissively, "shot at me today. Was that on your orders, Amanda?"

"What? No, of course not!" Waller proclaimed. Simone tried breaking Diana's grip but it was useless, like trying to tear a steel bar in half. Her legs thrashed as she was held up off the floor like a doll. Diana looked at her for a moment.

"Suzette, isn't it?" Diana said. "I think the police will want a word with you."

"You have no proof of that, do you?' Julian spoke up. "Oh, yes, I understand Wonder Woman's word against hers, but that could prove messy for our friend, Kal, couldn't it? Lots of questions he doesn't really want to answer."

Diana turned and looked at Julian. He lit a cigar and had a satisfied smile on his face.

"Smile all you want, I see who you really are,' she told him. "You're dead inside, aren't you, Mr. Grinka? That's the horrible truth isn't it? You mask it with your easy smile, yet all the while you spread misery to everything you touch. For a price I imagine, but the money doesn't fill that dead spot deep inside you, does it?"

Julian's smile faded. He looked at her with cold eyes and his mask of geniality slipped for a moment.

"Be that as it may,' he said. His voice was flat and brittle. "You care about him so you won't turn Simone in."

"I could snap her neck like a twig. Right here and right now and there is nothing you could do to stop me,' Diana said, looking into Simone's shocked eyes. "She probably deserves much worse."

A flash of a camera made Diana turn and Julian was holding up his phone. The smile came back, but there was no warmth to it.

"I'm sure the press would pay handsomely for that photo,' he said. "Wonder Woman killing someone would fetch quite the bounty."

Diana just looked at him for a moment.

"You sicken me,' she quietly said.

Amanda Waller spoke up for the first time, trying to get control of the situation.

"You're not going to kill her, Diana, so put her down,' Amanda demanded. "She works for us."

"Not for me,' Diana replied. She looked at Simone and then casually tossed her onto the bed. Simone scrambled away from Diana, clutching her throat.

"It wasn't about you,' Simone rasped. "It was to punish him!"

Diana felt the anger flare deep inside of her, but she controlled it. She looked back at Amanda Waller.

"I assume you had her kill Tom?" Diana asked. "You always talk about protecting the ordinary people from those like me, but who were you protecting when you killed Tom, Amanda?"

"It had to be done,' Amanda replied.

"You keep telling yourself that and I'm sure someday you'll believe it,' Diana offered.

"This is getting us nowhere,' Julian interjected. "You're not going to kill us and you're not going to turn Simone in, so you have no leverage here. If we truly want Kal dead there is nothing you can do to stop us. We could kill him at any time we want."

"And there's nothing you could do about it,' Simone repeated, still staring at Diana.

"Nothing?" Diana said, looking at the two of them. "I wouldn't say nothing. I can take away what you truly value, both of you. One call and all your money will disappear, Grinka. Another call and your enemies will know where you are. As for you, Simone or Suzette, not all your records were erased. I'm sure Interpol and the French police would be very interested in talking to you."

"You can't threaten these two, they work for the government,' Amanda shouted. Diana looked at her.

"Not my government."

"You wouldn't dare,' Julian said. "You're a hero, remember, Wonder Woman? I think you're bluffing."

Diana turned and put her hands on Julian's chair, leaning close to him and looking into his eyes.

"Is that a risk you're willing to take?' She asked him. "I'll make it simple for you. From this moment on, you will forget you ever met Kal. You will stay as far away from the two of us as you can. If you don't and he's hurt in any way, you'll find out if I'm bluffing or not. Are we clear now, Julian?"

She held his gaze, unblinking.

"**I said are we clear?**"

"Yes."

It was barely a whisper. She moved back towards the door. She was just about to open it, but stopped and looked at the three of them. Her eyes stopped on Amanda Waller.

"Look at where you've been brought, Amanda,' she said. "Is this really what you've been fighting for all this time?"

Diana opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind her. A silence fell over the room. Amanda's shoulders slumped forward as she just stared at the floor.

"Well, that's was unpleasant,' Julian finally said. The tone on his phone went off and he checked it. He smiled. "It seems Sasha has made the deal!"

* * *

><p>Paris – The Plaza Hotel<p>

Diana walked out the front doors and started down the street. The rage was still boiling inside of her, but she kept it in control. She wasn't even sure where she was walking she just walked. Suddenly she stopped and felt like screaming. Her hands clenched in fists of rage.

"You didn't kill them, did you?"

She spun around towards the voice to find Clark leaning against the building.

"How? How did you know I'd be here,' she asked, shocked at the sight of him.

"I have Bruce's phone number too, remember?" He replied. "So did you?"

"No."

"I'm glad you didn't, but I understand why you wanted to,' he said. He pushed himself off from the building and slowly moved towards her.

"What-What are you doing here?' She asked.

"I was looking for you,' he said, stopping in front of her.

"It was Suzette or Simone, whatever her name is that shot at me this morning, Kal,' Diana informed him.

"I thought it was,' he replied. "I don't think you were the real target though."

"No, she said you were,' Diana stated. "She was with Grinka and Amanda Waller. They're vipers, all of them."

"They are what they are,' he said. He moved closer to her, brushing his fingertips along her arms. "I don't care about them right now, I care about you."

She looked up into his eyes and met his gaze. There was a look of concern on his face.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded. "They just made me so angry."

He gently pulled her into his arms and hugged her.

"They have a way of doing that,' he whispered. "Don't let them."

"You're just saying that cause you slept with her,' Diana muttered. She smacked him on the back, but didn't break the hug. "How could you sleep with that woman, Kal? I mean really?"

"Ow. You know sometimes I think you're marrying me just so you can hit me more often,' he said.

"That's one of the reasons, 'she replied. He pulled back just a little to look at her. She had a small smile on her face.

"You are still marrying me, aren't you?" He asked.

"That depends on you."

He nodded and hugged her again.

"I know, you were right before,' he said. "It was just such a shock it brought it all up again. I've spent almost every moment since that day trying to change it, but I know now I can't. A man killed Lois and Jonathan and tried to kill me. If I don't let that go, he'll have succeeded in ending three lives. He'll have won. I owe it to their memory and to myself not to let that happen."

"It wasn't your fault, Kal,' Diana whispered.

"I know, but it's still hard,' he replied, kissing her.

"Living is hard, Kal, but you can't just turn away,' she told him.

"You're right, I know, and if you'll still have me, I very much want to have a life with you,' he said. "Marry me, Diana."

A smile spread across her beautiful face.

"Yes, Kal."

He kissed her hard, pouring all his love for her into that one kiss. She returned it with equal passion. The world seemed to slip away around them and they were alone with each other. One kiss just wasn't enough and turned into several. They lingered in each other's arms.

"I know I can't save you, Diana, but that doesn't mean I won't worry about you,' he whispered. "I love you and that means I don't want anything to happen to you. I won't try and stop you from doing what you do, but I will try and protect you if I can. I know you don't need protecting, but you're precious to me. I can't separate those emotions, but I won't let my fears hold you back either."

"I know,' she replied, kissing him again. "I have those same feelings, Kal. I want to protect you too, you know? You've already worried me half to death getting shot twice, but I never asked you to be someone you're not."

He nodded, thinking how lucky he was to find her. He kissed her again and just held her in his arms.

"Let's go back to the hotel, Diana.'

"Are you going to 'persuade' me again, Kal?" She teased.

He laughed.

"I like the way you think, young lady,' he said. He put his arm her and they started walking. Clark glanced back at the hotel.

"What about them?"

"They won't be bothering us again,' Diana said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You didn't threaten them, did you?' He asked. He smiled when she didn't answer. "Were you protecting me, Diana?"

"It seems someone has to,' she replied. "I mean really, Kal, how could you sleep with that woman?"

"You're not going to let that one go, are you?" he asked.

She stopped and smiled at him.

"Not likely, Kal."

"Even if I persuade you?' He said, pulling her close and kissing her.

"We'll see,' she replied.

They kissed again and headed back to the hotel.


	40. Chapter 40

Thanksgiving

Tanzania – East Africa – 5 Years later

The Amazon mission stretched out for miles in every direction. Fields of grain, several varieties were due to be harvested within the week. It was a bumper crop and would help with famine relief all over the continent. It was one of the more successful projects the Themysciran nation had undertook. It was making a small dent in what was otherwise an insurmountable problem. It was a wave of hope against a tide of cynicism.

What first surprised most newcomers was that a man was in charge of it. The Amazons weren't known for having the highest opinion of the male half of the species, so to have one in charge of anything seemed strange. That was true until you met the man and saw his results. Tall, lean and tanned, he was a quiet man for the most part. The locals hadn't known what to make of him when he arrived, but had quickly accepted him and his family into the community. His two young girls attended the local Amazon school along with the rest of the children.

Clark stood alone in the fields surrounded by an abundance of life. In the distance he could hear the laughter of his two young daughters, Lyta and Lara. The company of Amazon guards that watched over them had fallen under their spell and were fiercely loyal to them. They were little charmers he thought with a smile. It seemed each day they grew more like their mother sharing her beauty and her temper. They were little Princesses, literally and figuratively. He was desperately in love with both of them, as he was with their mother, Diana.

As he moved through the fields he stopped on a crest and stretched his arms out wide. He tilted his head back and let the warm rays of the sun soak in. Effortlessly his feet slowly lifted off the ground until he was ten feet in the air. Rotating 360 degrees he let his eyes open and scan the horizons.

His powers were back.

Now he had another choice to make. While he'd helped this small piece of the world bloom, the rest of it had grown darker and harsher. He could see it in Diana's eyes when she returned from missions with the League. Each year the battles got harder and more frequent. It seemed the forces of intolerance, fear and hate were spreading and the darkness with them.

He knew now he couldn't save the world by himself, no one could. What he could do is help. He realized that was something he'd lost along the way, the reason he'd starting in the first place. He hadn't set out to be a hero or any kind of symbol, but simple to help those that needed it because he could. All the rest that had come had obscured that even for him, but now he remembered. The quotation came back to him.

"_Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."_

He had just wanted to be one of those ripples of hope when he started, to help in some small way to improve the lot of others. His choice now was whether he would continue that here or try and help on a larger scale. Slowly he rotated and looked back towards the house. He watched his two girls running and laughing and he had his answer. A better world had been what he'd been trying for all those years ago. If he didn't do it for himself, he would do it for them and the countless other children like them. He would send his ripple of hope out to join with the others.

* * *

><p>Metropolis<p>

The girls were with their grandmother on the island. Diana was leading the Justice League against yet another threat. Clark stood in front of the First Merchant's Bank of Metropolis holding a key in his hand. It was raining and the clouds hung low and gray over the city. He glanced around his former adopted home and noticed the changes. With a sigh, he closed his umbrella and headed inside.

He presented his key to the bank manager, an older man that must have been there for years. The manager looked through his records and then up at Clark in surprise.

"It's been quite awhile since we've seen you, sir."

"Yes, it has,' Clark replied.

The manager nodded and asked Clark to sign a form to check the signatures. They matched so he led him into the vault. Box 714, the manager put in his key and then Clark put his in. They turned keys at the same time and then the box slid out. The manager guided Clark into another room for his privacy and then closed the door as he left.

He stood looking at the long metal box for a moment, remembering the last time he'd been here. He hadn't expected to ever see this again, but the so many things had changed since that day. Lifting the lid, Clark smiled as he saw some old photographs and other personal items. As nice as it was to look at them, what he was here for was folded below. Gingerly he took the material in his fingers and lifted it from the box. He'd forgotten how different it felt from any other fabric. It brought back so many memories, but today wasn't about memories. Tucking it into a plain brown paper bag, he closed the box again.

Back out of the street, the rain was coming down harder. Clark moved along with the crowds, as they rushed to find shelter from the storm. An image caught his attention and he stopped in front of an appliance storm. The news was showing the battle the Justice League was currently engaged in. A smile came to his lips as he saw her. Diana, his wife, was leading them into battle and looked glorious doing it.

* * *

><p>New York<p>

The city was covered in clouds and the rain poured down. Diana fought hard, pressing the battle forward. Her team's opponents were brutal and cared nothing of the damage they caused. She caught brief glimpse of the civilians cowering in fear as the battle raged. Increasingly she saw those looks wherever the battles took her. It was as if the people had lost hope and had accepted this was just the way things were. That was the real enemy she knew. When people give up hope then everything is lost. It's what she so desperately fought against.

There was a rumble in the distance, but she was too engaged to see what was causing it. As she deflected projectiles, she noticed a stir in the crowd. Ordinary people were stepping out from their hiding places and glancing up. A ray of sunlight cut through the clouds and she saw people smiling and cheering as they pointed towards the heavens. Then she heard the phrase she hadn't imagined she'd ever hear again.

**"Look! Up in the sky!**

**It's a Bird!**

**It's a Plane!**

** It's Superman!"**

* * *

><p>(AN – And that's where this one ends. To everyone that read it, thank you. To everyone that read and reviewed it, a special thank you. I did read and appreciate all of them.)


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